


A Very Newsies Christmas

by WritingToKeepMySanity



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Divergence, Caretaker Jack, Christmas Carols, Christmas Eve, Christmas Eve Baby, Christmas Morning, Christmas Movies, Christmas Stockings, Christmas Tree, Christmas in the ER, Coffeeshop AU, Davey and Crutchie are bros, Davey is confused by Santa, F/M, Gen, Gift of the Magi, Gingerbread house making, Hanukkah, Jack and Kath have a cat, Kath's a literal angel, Kelly Family Christmas Newsletter, M/M, Matchmaking, Meet-Cute, Modern AU, Newsies are Squad Goals, OC Kids - Freeform, Rockefeller center, Snowball Fight, Some Fluff, Some angst, Spot Conlon's a bad influence, White Elephant party, more Kelly kids because they're v fun to write, she's a tiny terror, some OC Newsies because no one can stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 21,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingToKeepMySanity/pseuds/WritingToKeepMySanity
Summary: In which your Friendly Neighborhood Fic-Author attempts A Thing.One-a-day, 25 days of Christmas fics.





	1. Finding the Perfect Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Newsies find their Christmas tree, and a little Christmas magic happens. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Set December after the Newsie Strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely LoverofBooksandBway, who requested "finding the perfect tree". Hope you enjoy!

“What about this one?”

“Nah, look at it. The branches is bent all funny.”

“That one?”

“It’s half-dead, Davey. Do ya really think our Christmas tree should look dead?”

“Well how should I know what a good Christmas tree looks like?” Davey protested.

“Yeah, whaddaya even _do_ with a Christmas tree?” Les asked, skipping alongside Katherine.

"What, your folks never got a Christmas tree?" Jack asked from the other side of Kath.

Dave blinked, tilting his head at him. "Jack, we're Jewish. We don't celebrate Christmas."

Jack sputtered a moment before saying, "I—I knew that."

Katherine laughed, looping her arm through his. "You decorate it, Les," she explained. "With lights, ornaments, candy canes. And then put presents under it."

Les’s eyes went wide. “Really?!”

“Well,” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, a little awkwardly. “Don’t be expectin’ too much from us, kid. Usually, we jus’ stick it in the corner. Maybe decorate if we gots the supplies, but it ain’t anythin’ worth lookin’ at.” He was avoiding her eye. The differences in their lifestyles, and how they'd been raised, were too big to leave unacknowledged, but it was still awkward when they did.

Rubbing his arm with her free hand, she tried to change the subject. “So, finding a Christmas tree—that’s a tradition for you boys?”

“Yeah, we all chip in a bit and buy a tree for the Lodgin’ House,” Crutchie explained. “And since we’s able to sell back our papes now, we got a little extra, so’s we can get an even better one than last year.”

“That’s great!” She meant it—they’d had a hard year with the strike, with the sudden loss of wages and the fear that they may not get them back. The boys deserved a beautiful Christmas. Katherine pursed her lips, an idea forming in the back of her mind. She was sure her mother had decorations in the attic they no longer put out, and more lights than they needed. If she could just get them to the Lodging House…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Crutchie. "Hey, Jack, look at this one!" he called from down the lot. 

Jack and Katherine followed his voice to the end of the row, where he stood, leaning on his crutch next to a small Christmas tree. "Hey, that one's a beaut!" Jack remarked. "I think it's even bigger than the one we had last year."

Katherine winced inwardly. The tree was maybe a little taller than Les, was missing a lot of its needles, and, to her, gave off a general air of sadness.

But the boys seemed so proud of their find, so she didn't say anything, smiled as they cut down the tree to take back to the Lodging House. Jack and Davey each took an end.

"Whaddaya think, Ace?" Jack asked, grinning at her. She leaned in, kissed his cheek. 

"Looks great, Jack."

He turned to Les. "Hey, kid, c'mere. Hold this for a sec." Jack helped him get a grip on the trunk before letting go, and digging into his pocket to pay for the tree. 

Katherine walked with them back to the Lodging House before bidding everyone goodbye, kissing Jack one more time, and racing home. If she seemed distracted, Jack didn’t say anything, and she didn’t let on what she was plotting.

She had work to do.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Christmas Day dawned bright and cold for the Newsies of Lower Manhattan.

“Not a lotta sellin’ on Christmas,” Crutchie remarked as they bundled up for the day.

Jack nodded in sympathy. He hadn’t sold papes for a couple of months now, finally feeling secure enough in the illustrator’s job Joe offered him to give it up, but winter was always a hard sell for a Newsie. “Yeah, but the ones who do buy are pretty generous, ain’t they? They feels bad for tha bums who gotta work.”

Crutchie laughed, pulling his hat low over his ears. "Guess that's true." 

They started down the stairs, slower than the other Newsies, who raced past them, ready to get their papes and sell 'em fast. Albert ran past them with JoJo on his back, as Elmer chased after them, slipping in his socked feet, yelling something about "no good, dirty _thieves_!"

Jack and Crutchie were laughing at the younger Newsies' antics when Jack bumped into Specs, who stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs. “Whoa!” Looking around, he saw all the boys had stopped and were staring into the front lobby. Racer’s jaw dropped so far his cigar fell out of his mouth.

“What’s goin’ on—?” he pushed aside Specs and Race to step through the crowd of Newsies to see what the cause of their shock was. When he saw the source, his eyes widened.

Their scraggly tree had been decorated to the nines, with electric lights, glass baubles, tinsel, candy canes, and gingerbread cookies. On top of the tree sat a five-point star.

And underneath…

A heap of presents, wrapped in shiny paper, topped with bows. Enough for each Newsie, and then some.

“Jackie?” Crutchie asked. “You know anything about this?”

Shaking his head slowly, Jack smiled. Katherine Pulitzer was somethin’ else. For sure. “No, Crutchie. I'm thinkin' this was the work of a Christmas angel.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually a lot of interesting information about the history of Christmas trees (interesting to me--maybe I'm just a nerd). Like Teddy Roosevelt banned Christmas trees in the White House, because he feared it would lead to deforestation. He even wrote a letter to President William McKinley (who was president in 1899) saying that Christmas trees were "un-American".
> 
> Drop me a line if there's a Christmas fic/drabble you'd like to see!
> 
> Comments, critiques, and concerns welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	2. White Elephant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Newsies and Katherine play a Left-Right White Elephant game.
> 
> They may or may not be confused about the finer points of said game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the lovely tuppenny, who asked for a White Elephant gift party. I apologize in advance if this makes no sense at all. Hope you still enjoy!

“So, it’s pretty easy,” Katherine explained, passing the presents to each person in the circle. “I read the story, and whenever I say ‘right’ or ‘left’, that’s which way you pass the present. Whichever one you have at the end is the present you take home. Ready?”

A round of "yes"s chorused around the table. Katherine unlocked her phone and began reading.  

“ _Christmas was almost here, and Mother RIGHT was finishing the Christmas baking. Father RIGHT, Sue RIGHT, and Billy RIGHT returned from their last-minute Christmas errands._ ”

“Wait, what was that? Four rights?” Dave asked, halfway between passing the present in his hand.

Jack nudged him. “C’mon, Davey. Keep up, it’s only the beginning.”

“That’s right, Dave,” Katherine confirmed. Slightly confused, everyone began passing to the right again. “No, that wasn’t—oh, never mind.” Shaking her head, she went back to reading from her phone.

“ _‘There's not much LEFT to be done,’ said Father RIGHT as he came into the kitchen._

_‘Did you leave the basket of food at church?’ asked Mother RIGHT._

_‘I LEFT it RIGHT where you told me to,’ said Father RIGHT._

_‘I'm glad my shopping is done,’ said Billy RIGHT. ‘I don't have any money LEFT.’_ ”

“What a call-out,” Clara muttered as she passed her present left.

“You’re telling me,” Elmer muttered back. “Weasel works us too hard for what he pays us.”

“ _The hall telephone rang, and Susan RIGHT LEFT to answer it. She rushed back and told the family ‘Aunt Tillie RIGHT LEFT a package for us RIGHT on Grandma RIGHT's porch. I'll go over there RIGHT now and get it,’ she said as she LEFT in a rush._

 _Father RIGHT LEFT the kitchen and brought in the Christmas tree._ ”

“…Wait,” Dave said, and everyone in the circle groaned. “Sorry! Can you go back, Kath?”

“Come _on_ , Davey,” Les whined. “It’s not _that_ hard.”

Crutchie laughed, squeezing Les’s shoulder. “Aw, it’s okay, Les. We just gotta be patient with Davey, that’s all.”

“Okay, going back, it’s right, left, right, left, right…right…right, left, right, and left.” Katherine looked up from her phone. “Everyone good?”

At their confirming nods, she continued with the story.

“ _By the time Susan RIGHT returned, Mother RIGHT, Father RIGHT, and Billy RIGHT had begun trimming the tree._ ”

“Four rights, did you get that, Dave?” Les whispered to his brother.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dave nodded. “Yeah, Les. I got it.”

“ _The entire RIGHT family sang carols as they finished the decorating. Then they LEFT all the presents arranged under the tree and went to bed, hoping they had selected the RIGHT gifts for their family._

_Now I hope you have the RIGHT present for yourself, because that's all that's LEFT of our story…”_

“So that’s it?” Race asked, fingers fidgeting with the package in his hands.

Katherine shook her head. “Not yet. _Except to wish you a Merry Christmas..._ ”

Race ripped into the present he held.

“ _Isn't that RIGHT?_ ” Katherine finished the story, and everyone passed their present right. “Race, come on.”

“Look at that, Racer.” Crutchie said, laughing. “Les has more patience than you.”

"Shaddup, Crutchie," Race grumbled, opening the present completely. "No, this one's mine, Elmer, take Clara's."

There was a flurry of activity as everyone ripped into their packages. 

"Aw, man. Racer, you stiffed me." Elmer complained. "What am I gonna do with a pair of socks? Hey, Les, trade me."

"No!" Les exclaimed indignantly. "What do I want socks for?"

"If you get the socks, I'll trade ya this slingshot," Crutchie bargained. "Don't ya owe Finch for breaking his last week?"

Wrinkling his nose, Les said, "Oh, yeah. Okay, gimme the socks, Elmer."

"Hey, Jackie. What'd you get?" Race held up a coffee mug that stated in bold letters I AM VERY BUSY. "Wanna mug?"

"Oooh, I'll take it." Clara said. "The guys at work keep stealing mine. I have a... penguin corkscrew, I think?"

Race's eyes widened. "Score!" he said excitedly and swapped gifts with her.

The introduction of the penguin corkscrew amped up the excitement at the table. The boys started talking over each other, clamoring for Race's attention, trying to trade with him for his gift. 

"Oh, well. Trading's not really part..." Katherine tried to say over the noise. But no one was listening, too busy with their trading. Shaking her head, she tossed her phone on the table with a laugh. "I give up," she declared, leaning into Jack's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Davey became the one really confused about the game, Race became the impatient one, and this became sillier than I had planned.
> 
> I honestly don't know what to do with this information.
> 
> Also you can actually buy the penguin corkscrew. And, honestly? It's the greatest thing I've ever seen. It's called the "Kingsley Winged Corkscrew", if you'd like to purchase one for yourself or as a White Elephant gift.
> 
> The Left-Right story was found on the vast internet. There wasn't an author attached.
> 
> Sidebar: third chapter of Heart on the Trigger to be posted this evening!
> 
> Comments, critiques, and concerns welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	3. Crutchie's Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter wasn't a good time to be a Newsie. Selling was slow, blankets were sparse, and pneumonia was commonplace.
> 
> So why did Crutchie love winter so much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a winter-esque fic, rather than a straight-forward Christmassy fic, but I got this in my head and couldn't shake it.

Winter was not a good time to be a Newsie.

Forgetting the fact that they couldn’t afford new winter clothing every year, and that many of them wore years old coats that were worn or too small, folks just weren’t willing to stop long enough to buy papes. There were never enough blankets to go around, and at least one Newsie caught pneumonia every year. Most Newsies didn’t have families, didn’t have the money, to really enjoy Christmas. And for Crutchie, cold meant his foot hurt more than ever.

Despite this, Crutchie _loved_ winter.

Katherine never understood it. Crutchie was an optimist, had been ever since she’d met him. According to Jack, always had been. But, even so, to be able to still see the good in everyone and everything while being in so much pain was…

Well, she just couldn’t fathom it.

Pushing the door to her apartment open, Katherine heard voices from the living room. “Jack?” she called, shedding her heavy coat and scarf, hanging them by the door.

“In here, Ace,” he called back from the living room.

Walking down the short hallway to the living room, Katherine entered the room to see Jack and Crutchie sitting on her couch, Crutchie with his right foot in a basin of water. Leaning down to kiss Jack’s cheek before reaching over to squeeze Crutchie’s shoulder, she grinned at them.

“Hi Crutchie! How’ve you been?” She settled in a chair next to the couch. “It’s been too long.”

“Aw, I’m not too bad, Kath. Sellin’s been slow. Not too many folks wanna stop, not even for the news.”

Katherine made a sympathetic noise as Jack quietly stood and went into the kitchen. “I bet winter’s not your favorite time, huh?”

“Winter’s not so bad. When it snows, before it gets all gray and slushy, the city looks kinda peaceful. And folks is usually more generous this time a year, when they stops. Got a whole quarter just yesterday for one pape.”

“But… Doesn’t the cold weather make your foot worse?” She didn’t know the extent of Crutchie’s problems with his foot, other than it was likely from polio, but she did notice how much heavier Crutchie leaned on his crutch in the winter, his sigh of relief when he got to sit down after a long day.

“Aw, it ain’t so bad,” Crutchie shrugged. “My foot hurtin’ a little more is the least of my worries in the winter. ‘Sides, Jack always helps me out.”

“He does?” Katherine wasn’t really surprised, Jack was always helping out one Newsie or the other, but this is the first she’d heard of him specifically helping with Crutchie’s foot.

“Yeah,” Crutchie said, reaching down to adjust his pants leg so it didn’t get wet. “Ever since we met in the Refuge. Always set aside some of his money from sellin’ papes, bought me extra socks at Christmas. Told ‘im he shouldn’t, but you know Jack,” he laughed. “Don’t listen to no one.”

“Jack… bought you socks?” 

“Yeah! Real good ones, too, thick ‘n wool, and always made sure I had good bandages for my foot.”

On the surface, none of this seemed out of character, but it was an odd thing for her not to know about Jack. It made more sense, though, why Crutchie didn't complain about winter. With Jack helping him out, buying him socks and bandages for his foot, Crutchie had come to associate winter with care and warmth, not cold and discomfort. 

Katherine started to say something, but noticed Jack standing in the doorway. By the way he was slightly fidgeting, she could tell he was uncomfortable with his secret getting out.

“Here ya go, Crutchie. Washed ‘em best I could.” He handed Crutchie the bandages for his foot along with a towel.

She watched as Jack helped the younger Newsie dry off his foot, wrap the cloth bandages around the twisted foot, fit his sock over the wrapped foot, tie his shoe, and roll down his pants leg, all the while keeping his hands sure, gentle.

He’d spent years building up an image, she knew. One that exuded confidence, toughness, something a leader should be. When folks thought of Jack Kelly, they thought of a rough, thick-skinned, hardened man.

But they didn’t see this side of him. How gentle he could be with the boys, how he wrapped Crutchie’s foot, or held the younger Newsies when they had nightmares, or how he touched her face, like she was precious, something worth treasuring.

Giving the laces on Crutchie’s shoe an extra tug to make sure they were tight, Jack asked, “All set, there, Crutchie?”

“Yeah!” Leaning down to retrieve his crutch, Crutchie stood. “I betta be headin’ back to the lodgin’ house. You comin’, Jack?” He asked over his shoulder as he made his way to the front door.

“Nah, not right now. I’ll see ya later.”

Crutchie nodded, waving over his shoulder. “See ya, Jack. Bye Kath!”

“Bye Crutchie,” Katherine stood to lock the door behind him. When she turned around, Jack was standing, collecting the dirty towels.

“Sorry for the mess, Ace. An’ I know you gave me the key for emergencies, but Crutchie’s foot was hurtin’, and your place was closest, and—”

Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him softly.

“Jack Kelly,” she slid her arms around his waist. “You are an _impossible_ boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love gentle Jack. And super-optimistic Crutchie. It's (one of) my weakness(es).
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	4. Christmas Carols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Houston to Harlem, Newsies could be heard on every street corner. 
> 
> But they weren't yelling headlines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for the lovely tuppenny, who requested caroling door-to-door.
> 
> This isn't ~exactly~ caroling door-to-door, but there are Newsies singing carols (which, hello. Where is my Newsies cast Christmas album?) Hope it's still to your liking!

Newsie Square was alive with noise when Katherine passed through the gates. There was an excited energy as Newsies milled around, counting their papes for the day. At first, she thought the commotion was for a good headline, but after craning her neck to read the chalkboard, Katherine found the day’s headline to be run-of-the-mill, not worth any excitement.

Searching for Jack now, to ask him what was going on, Katherine realized that, rather than the Newsies talking over each other, it was a collective sound, rising and falling, almost like… a song?

Straining her ears, she caught snippets of lyrics.

“ _Joyful all Ye Nations rise,_

 _Join the Triumph of the Skies…_ ”

Just under the song, she heard a high-pitched "Miss Kath'rine!"

Katherine turned just in time to have two bony arms wrap around her middle, squeezing her tightly. "Oof," she laughed, running a hand down a tangled mess of dark hair. “Hello, Rosie. How are you?”

The young Newsie looked up at her with a grin. “Miss Kath'rine, it's almost Christmas!"

"It is!" Katherine exclaimed, grinning down at the girl. "Are you excited?"

Rosie nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Mama don't gotta work, an' Papa don't work all day, an' we gets clem'ntines in our stockings, an' I's been savin' up so's I can buy Mama hot chocolate, 'cause she don't get it too much, an'..."

Katherine had to admire the way Rosie could say so much in one breath, and keep going. It was rather impressive. And all around them, Newsies were still singing.

" _And heaven and nature sing,_

_And heaven and nature sing,_

_And heaven, heaven, and nature sing..."_

She wanted to ask what was up with the carols, but Rosie had just launched into another story, so she nodded along, listening with rapt attention.

When Rosie finally stopped to take a breath, Katherine heard "Alright, alright, make a hole" just off to her right. She looked up to see Newsies shifting to let Jack through. He smiled when he saw her. "Hiya, Ace."

She smiled back. "Hi, Jack."

Cupping her cheek, he leaned in to kiss her. It was short, sweet...

"Hey! Yer squishin' me!" 

...and interrupted by a disgruntled, squirming Newsie. 

Jack pulled away enough to let Rosie detach from Katherine. "Well, move aside, short stuff, and you won't git squished."

Putting her hands on her hips, the young girl lifted her chin defiantly. "I ain't short! I bet’cha I’ll be taller’n _you_ someday, Kelly!” With a huff, Rosie turned on her heel to join the other Newsies, who were starting to filter out onto the streets.

Laughing, Katherine turned back to Jack. “Seems like you all are getting into the holiday spirit.”

"Yeah, they gets squirrelly around this time'a year," Jack agreed, wrapping an arm around her, setting his chin on her head. "Been awhile, Ace."

Tipping her head back, she looked him in the eye. "It's been two days."

"Still," he grumbled, pressing his lips to her hair. She burrowed into his warmth, sliding her arms around him. Two days did feel too long—it was why she left early to stop by Newsie Square, in hopes to see him. "When ya gonna have time off?"

She thought to back to her desk at the office and all the work she still had to do. "Probably not until Christmas Eve. You?"

Jack sighed, the puff of air ruffling her hair. "Yeah, me too. Gotta stack'a illustrations my editor wants me ta finish 'fore Christmas."

Katherine sighed as well, holding him just a bit tighter. The Newsies were trickling out of the Square, changing carols again.

" _All is calm, all is bright..."_

"So they do this every year?" she asked, looking up at him again. "Sing carols on their routes?"

Jack shrugged around her. "Yeah. Been goin' on since 'fore I became a Newsie. Somethin' ta lift everyone's spirits. Folks like it."

Katherine hummed, listening to the song swell around her. "I do, too."

They stood there a moment more, unwilling to leave their cocoon for work, soaking in each other and the song around them.

And on that day, from Houston to Harlem, the streets of New York were filled with the voices of Newsies. But instead of yelling headlines, they were singing carols.

“ _Glo-oo-oo-ria in excelsis Deo!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Gloria in excelsis Deo" translates roughly to English from Latin as "Glory to the God on highest"
> 
> All the songs are period appropriate. There's actually a whole bunch of carols I didn't realize were much older than I thought. "12 Days of Christmas", for example, has been around since 1780, as a chant. Kinda fascinating, honestly. (again. nerd.)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	5. Kelly's Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and Crutchie were expecting a quiet afternoon with their niece.
> 
> Honestly, they should have known better.
> 
> ***
> 
> Set in "You Are My Sunshine" 'verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's Christmas without a little angst?
> 
> Honestly, this is just kinda angst with a Christmas backdrop, but there are gingerbread houses and Christmas movies so it counts, right?

“Okay, Kelly, you and Davey are gonna hold these two pieces steady, so I can glue ‘em together with the icing. Got it?”

“Got it!” Kelly chirped, her tongue poking out in concentration as she held the two pieces of gingerbread together.

Dave and Crutchie were watching Kelly for the afternoon while Katherine did her Christmas shopping. So far, the three of them had gone to see the tree at Rockefeller, wandered around a holiday market, and watched two Christmas movies. They were now halfway through _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_  as they carefully assembled a gingerbread house.

“And… done!” Crutchie said, adding the last bit of icing with a flourish. “Now all we gotta do is decorate it.”

As the three of them began liberally coating the gingerbread house with sprinkles and candy, Kelly asked, “Uncle Davey?”

“Yes, _bubbeleh_?”

Kelly didn’t look up from her careful distribution of sprinkles on the roof. “Where’s my daddy?”

Dave stiffened slightly, setting down the container of sprinkles and sharing a look with Crutchie over her head. Kelly loved hearing about Jack, practically begged anyone who would listen to tell her a story, any story, about her daddy. But, at only four, she didn’t know how he was taken from them. They all knew this day would come eventually, but Katherine hadn’t mentioned Kelly asking about Jack more than usual, so he wasn’t sure how to answer. 

“Why don’t you ask your mama about that?” he stalled, looking to Crutchie for help. But Crutchie looked about as lost as Dave felt. When they agreed to watch Kelly today, they hadn’t been prepared for this bombshell.

“Mama always gets sad when we talk about him, even when she tells me nice stories. And she never told me where he went. Did he go to Santa Fe?” Kelly asked, carefully lining the roof with gumdrops. “Mama said he always wanted to go there.”

“He—went somewhere kinda like Santa Fe,” Crutchie said. “Better, though. Lots of wide spaces, horses to ride.” He wasn’t too sure about the afterlife, or Heaven or Hell, but when he let himself think about it, he believed Jack was somewhere nice, somewhere he always wanted to go.

It was quiet in the kitchen; the only sound came from the movie on TV. Then Kelly asked, “Did—did he leave because of me?” Her voice was soft, and Crutchie and Dave rushed to reassure her.

“No, no, of course not!”

“Why would you think that?”

Kelly shrugged, slowly dragging a finger through a bit of icing on the table. “My friend Andrew at school said he didn’t have a daddy because when he found out his mama was gonna have a baby, he left. Is that what my daddy did?”

She looked up at them, and Dave was struck by how much she looked like Jack. Sure, there was some of Kath, in the chin, and around the ears, but the eyes looking up at him, wide, begging for answers, were all Jack.

“Kelly, your dad… didn’t know about you when he left. Your mom didn’t, either. And Jack was—” Dave exhaled, loudly. “—he was trying to help some people, and he got hurt. Really bad.”

“So he’s in Heaven? Like Auntie Lucy?”

Dave wasn’t sure how much she knew about Lucy’s death, so he kept it simple. “Yeah. Your daddy’s in Heaven with Auntie Lucy.”

Kelly tilted her head. “Is Heaven like Santa Fe?”

“Yeah,” Crutchie laughed. “Heaven’s a lot like Santa Fe.”

She seemed to accept this answer and returned to lining the base of the gingerbread house with gumdrops. Dave and Crutchie exchanged another look over her head, the latter shrugging a little.

“Do you… have any more questions?” Dave asked, silently praying she was done.

“Mm…” Kelly hummed as she thought. “Yes. One more.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Crutchie looked as wary as Dave felt.

Kelly held out her hand. “Can you hand me the peppermints, Uncle Charlie?”

Her innocent question dispelled the tension around the table. Crutchie laughed a bit before passing the candy to Kelly, and they finished decorating the house without further talk of Jack. Once Kelly had placed the last piece of candy on the roof, they sat back to admire their masterpiece.

It was a little lopsided, one side of the roof had way too much icing, and was starting to sag, and they’d had to break up the gingerbread people that came in the package to patch up the back wall, which had started to crumble.

“What do you think, Kelly?” Davey asked his niece, who was studying the gingerbread house closely.

“I think… We need more sprinkles,” Kelly said, tapping a finger to her chin very seriously.

"She's right, Davey." Crutchie nodded, looking equally serious. "That's exactly what we need."

After drowning the house in more sprinkles any one person needed in a lifetime, they cleaned up the kitchen table before Kelly chose another movie ( _T_ _he Polar Express_ ), adamantly denying her need for a nap. Before the kid could even board the train, Kelly was passed out on the couch, sprawled on her stomach.

Crutchie shifted a pillow under her head gently—thankfully she was a heavy sleeper like her mother and didn't stir. "Davey?"

"Mm?" Dave didn't open his eyes—he looked about ready to crash, too.

"You still miss him?"

Dave didn't hesitate. "Every day, Charlie. Every day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "bubbeleh" is a Yiddish term of endearment, essentially meaning "sweetheart". 
> 
> I tried to come up with a reason for why both Crutchie and Davey would be needed to babysit, but then I remembered. Kelly is the spawn of Jack and Kath. You know she needs more than one babysitter.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Under no cicumstances is Race ever allowed to watch her alone because they get into too much trouble.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Comments, critiques, and concerns welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	6. Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack and Kath try to be romantic, and it doesn't quite work out the way they planned.
> 
> ***
> 
> Set the Christmas before the January 1900 fire at Pulitzer's mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidebar before the chapter: no more angst. Not for Christmas. I’m sorry. 
> 
> For the lovely tuppenny who requested “One of them wants to sneak in to their s/o's room on Christmas Eve to leave a stocking for them to wake up to on Christmas morning" :D Hope you enjoy!

He was insane.

Almost definitely.

The wind was biting through his coat, his fingers stiff in his worn gloves, and he was pretty sure the sound of his teeth chattering was loud enough to be heard from inside the house.

But he was trying to be _romantic_ , dammit.

It wasn’t easy when the girl you were trying to romance lived in a _mansion_.

Thankfully, her room was just on the second floor. He’d climbed worse just getting up to his and Crutchie’s penthouse.

But he’d never tried it while carrying a bulky stocking between his teeth.

Jack designed the stocking a month ago, scrimped for material, and had Buttons help him with the sewing. It wasn’t much to look at—Buttons was neater than Jack, whose only sewing ability came from patching up tears in his clothing, but neither of them had formal training—just a red stocking with white trim, and, in the middle, an angel in a white gown.

There wasn’t much in it, a small bottle of oil for her typewriter, a couple of clementines, a couple of hair ribbons—Kath liked to tie her hair back when she wrote, and always misplaced them.

Jack pulled himself up to her window, pushing it open softly. Katherine started leaving her bedroom window unlocked about a month after they’d started stepping out together, when she discovered his ability—and willingness—to pick a lock, should the need arise.

Stepping lightly into the room, Jack ducked to avoid hitting his head on the window. He was just gonna be in and out, leave the stocking where she would find it in the morning and scoot.

He moved quietly through the room, trying not to disrupt the stillness of her room. Stopping abruptly, Jack cocked his head, listening.

It was a little _too_ still. There was no noise of Katherine breathing, no movement from the bed at all. Kath was a sound sleeper, but never this deeply.

Turning, Jack’s eyes landed on the bed.

A bed that was still neatly made, completely void of a sleeping figure.

_Where the hell is she?_

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

She was crazy.

There was no other way of putting it.

But she wanted to do something special for her... Jack.

If only her Jack didn't live seven flights up slick metal stairs.

The fire escape was spottily iced, making Katherine step lightly and carefully as she made her way up to Jack’s penthouse.

She knew Crutchie moved inside when it got cold enough the pain in his foot made it hard for him to sleep. Jack, on the other hand, was not only bullheaded enough to sleep outside pretty much year-round, but a light sleeper, so Katherine had to be quiet and try not to slip as she left her gift for him.

She’d bought a plain stocking and painstakingly embroidered his name at the top. It was crooked, loose threads giving it an air of sloppiness.

Katherine always hated the sewing lessons her mother insisted she and all her sisters take, preferring the clack of typewriter keys to the pricking of needles. But she still remembered how, and she’d stubbornly pushed through.

She'd filled it with odds and ends, a case of pencils, a nice bar of shaving soap, new gloves—she’d seen the ones he had and how stiffly he moved his hands when it was cold.

Pulling herself up the last step with a grunt, blowing her hair out of her face—really, climbing that many stairs in this many layers was tedious—Katherine was met with an empty rooftop. Jack’s bedroll was pushed to the side, his case of drawings carefully propped up by a pile of his clothing.

But the boy himself was nowhere to be seen.

Spinning in a slow circle, taking in the entire rooftop, Katherine furrowed her brow.

_Where is he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They find each other after scrambling around New York for a couple hours and exchange their stockings. Not quite as romantic as they'd planned, but it was so utterly _them_ that they didn't mind that much.
> 
> ***
> 
> Brief note before I move on, that doesn't quite have to do with this chapter. In looking up Newsboy Lodging Houses, for how many floors there were, I found a website for the No. 9 Duane Street Newsboy Lodging House, which is historically the Lodging House for the Manhattan Newsies in the 1899 Strike. There's a lot of great info there, should you need it for research, or fun, or whatever.
> 
>  ~~HotT update~~ (that just looked weird) Heart on the Trigger update: chapter four should be up later today or tomorrow.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	7. Gift of the Magi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all who give gifts, these two were the most wise. Of all who give and receive gifts, such are they as the most wise. Everywhere they are the wise ones.
> 
> They are the magi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely SeizeTheBaguette_1899, who asked for the Gift of the Magi. Hope you enjoy!

Before we meet the lady of the house, let's take a look at the home. It was a furnished room at eight dollars a week. There isn’t much more than that to be said. There was an electric bell that didn’t work, and a name beside the door.

  _Mr. Jonathan Francis Kelly_

Perhaps this name was too long for a man who only made twenty dollars a week. Perhaps it should have been shortened to _Mr. Jonathan F. Kelly_. But when Mr. Jonathan Francis Kelly entered the furnished room, his name became very short, for Mrs. Jonathan Francis Kelly wrapped her arms around him and simply called him “Jack”. Let’s meet her now.

Her name is Katherine.

Katherine, who was now slowly counting the change in her hand for the third time.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all she had to buy Jack his Christmas present. She’d set aside her pennies for months, and this was it.

She and Jack were not extravagant people, no matter how she'd been raised, but she'd really been hoping to get him something lovely for Christmas.

And she couldn't very well do that with a dollar and eighty-seven cents. 

Though their home was sparsely furnished and small, and the Kelly's were not partial to frivolousness, there were two items of treasure in the Kelly home. One of them was Katherine’s locket, passed on to her after her sister died.

Katherine fished out the locket from her collar now, admiring the details in the gold petals of the poppy flower. There was nothing in it, and it hung on a piece of typewriter ribbon, the chain having broken long ago in her youth. Grasping it tightly in her hand, Katherine bit her lip, thinking.

Tears welling in her eyes, she tore the ribbon from her neck and, putting on her coat and hat, left quickly out the door and onto the street.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Now that we have met the lady, let’s meet her Jack, who was in a similar predicament.

Jack sat at his desk, staring blankly at the paper in front of him, twisting a pencil in his hands.

It was Christmas Eve, and he still didn’t have a gift for Katherine, or the money to buy something deserving of her.

They did okay for themselves, both working, but between rent each week, basic necessities for them, helping out the Newsies whenever they could, and ol’ Joe disowning Kath the minute Jack put a ring on her finger, they didn’t have money left over for extra things, like gifts.

It had been a difficult year. After her mother and father turned their backs on her, Katherine’s editor had placed her back on entertainment; Jack had gotten a decrease in pay after almost five years of working for the same paper, and, to top it off, Buttons had gotten sick—real sick. The kind of sick one doesn’t get better from.

He just wanted to get her something nice, end the year on a good note.

It was mentioned earlier that the Kelly household had two treasures. One, as you know, was Katherine’s locket. The other was Jack’s fountain pen, given to him by an editor who saw potential in him as an illustrator. It was a lovely pen, even if the nib was a little worn, sleek and black, and wrote more smoothly than any other writing utensil he’d owned.

Jack picked up this pen now, turning it over in his hand. Gripping it in his hand, Jack clenched his jaw, and stood, shrugging into his coat.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Now, we return to the little furnished room, where Katherine paced the floors, turning over the beautiful gift she’d found for Jack in her hand, as she waited for her husband to return. 

It was nib for his fountain pen, gold with a ruby wear-point. It would look beautiful on the pen Mr. Denton gave him five years ago. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw it. He’d been too sad lately—Katherine missed his wide grin, the one that stretched across his face, dimpled his cheeks.

The key turned in the lock, then, and she hurriedly shoved his gift in her pocket, rushing to the door to greet him.

Katherine caught him off-guard, throwing her arms around his neck before he could even take his coat off.

“Whoa!” he laughed, dropping his bag to wrap his arms around her waist. “Hey, Ace.” Pulling back slightly, Jack moved his hands to cup her face, kissing her.

She grinned, feeling buoyant and giddy with him home. "Hi. I missed you." 

"I missed you, too." He kissed her again, stepping back after to take off his coat. “What time are we meetin' the boys for dinner?”

“Eight. We still have some time,” she answered, following him to the kitchen, where he went to the little sink to scrub the ink from his hands. “Jack, can I borrow your pen a moment?”

“Ah, don’t you got a pen or somethin’ by ya typewriter, Kath?” He dried his hands, sounding nervous, and Katherine frowned. Jack never passed an opportunity to show off his pen.

“I do,” she said carefully, leaning on the doorway to the kitchen. “But yours writes so well. It’ll be just a moment. Please, Jack?” Katherine was practically vibrating; she wanted to give him his gift so badly.

Instead of answering, he turned, brushed past her, kissing her cheek. “You wearin’ your locket tonight?”

Now it was her turn to be nervous. “Oh, I don’t know. The ribbon’s getting worn, I don’t want it to fall off.” That had happened at a rally a year ago, and he’d had every Newsie in New York looking out for it. After a stressful week, Spot Conlon himself strode up to her desk at the _Sun_ , dropped the pendent in her hand, and left without a word.

“You should really get a chain for it, Ace,” Jack said, fidgeting a bit in the living room, his hand in his pocket.

Katherine shrugged, a pit in her stomach. It had been hard, giving up her locket; she didn’t really want to relive it. “It’ll be fine for a little longer,” she insisted.

“Maybe not too long,” he said, reaching for her hand. Cupping it gently, Jack retracted his other hand from his pocket and spooled a delicate gold chain in her hand. 

"Jack, it's..." she was speechless.

His face was so open, earnest. "Ya like it?"

"It's beautiful," she assured him. "But Jack, I... I don't have the locket anymore."

He knit his brow, holding her hand just a little tighter. "Did ya lose it again? If ya remember where, I can get the boys—"

"No, Jack, I didn't lose it. I sold it." She fished his gift from her pocket. "To buy this. See, it's a nib for your pen. Do you like it?"

Jack didn't say anything, gaping slightly at her. Katherine shifted in front of him. 

"I know it doesn't look like much  _now_ , but just see it on your pen—it'll look perfect, I know it. Let me see your pen, Jack. I'll show you."

Instead of pulling out his pen, Jack took a step towards her, wrapping his arms around her, practically dipping her as he kissed her senseless.

"God Almighty, Ace," he said, breathlessly. "I love you."

She laughed, pressing a smiling kiss to his mouth. "I love you, too. Oh, I'm glad you like it, Jack! Put it on your pen, see how it looks."

"Nope." He kissed her again.

Katherine pulled away, startled. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no," he shrugged, still smiling. "I sold the pen, Kath. To buy the chain for your locket."

Her hands flew to her face, and she let out a giggle. "You didn't!"

His grin was everything she'd wanted to see for so long, and she stretched up on her toes to press a kiss to the dimple in his cheek. "I did."

"Oh," Katherine pressed her hands to her heart. "But I wanted to get you something nice for Christmas."

Jack shrugged, wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. "I don't need nothin' fancy, Kath. S'long as I got you, I'm happy."

"For sure?"

"For sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had a lot of fun with this one. Playing around with different writing styles is always... an adventure, and this proved no different. But I like how it turned out.
> 
> I didn't realize until now how much I liked writing cuddly, domestic Jack and Kath.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	8. Christmas Eve in the Hospital, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crutchie's in the hospital, Jack decorates his room, and apparently I believe modern-day Newsies have definitely seen _Mean Girls_

“You’re hangin’ it crooked.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Do you wanna get out of bed and do it yourself?” Jack demanded.

“I can’t,” Crutchie coughed weakly, hiding a grin. “I’m sick.”

“Boo, you whore.” Stepping off the chair, Jack stood back to admire his handiwork. “You’re right. It’s crooked.”

“I tried tellin’ you,” Crutchie reminded him, twisting the plastic hospital bracelet around his wrist.

Jack waved him off. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, climbing back on the chair to straighten the tinsel on the wall. “Don’t get cocky, kid. I’m not the one who got pneumonia three days before Christmas.”

He heard a _whump!_ behind him as Crutchie flopped back on his pillow and groaned pathetically. “‘Least I’m back on real food.”

“Yeah, that’s somethin’.” Jack said, leaning away from the wall. “How’s that?”

“Looks good, Jackie.” Tinsel was taped up on the wall, their stockings hung at the foot of Crutchie's bed, and a wreath had replaced the IV bag on the pole next to his bed.

Jumping off the chair once more, Jack dragged it back beside Crutchie’s bed. “Speakin’ of real food, whaddaya want tomorrow?”

Crutchie tilted his head back, thinking. Jack was struck by how young his friend looked. Crutchie’d always been on the smaller side, but lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines, he looked _tiny_.

“Oh!” Crutchie’s eyes lit up. “Can you bring me somethin’ from Jacobi’s? Like that, that uh… That matzo ball soup he’s got.”

“Jacobi’s best for Christmas dinner. Got it.”

“And we’re gonna watch  _A Christmas Story_ , tomorrow, right?”

“What is it with you and that movie?” Jack asked without malice. Of course they were gonna watch it, they always did, and it’s not like he even really knew how to tell Crutchie “no” when he _wasn’t_ lying in a hospital bed.

Crutchie gave him a dry look. “Don’t act like you never wanted an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, Mr. ‘I’m gonna be like Billy the Kid’.”

“Yeah, well, it’s probably a good thing I never became a cowboy.” Jack admitted. “Probably would’ve shot my eye out, too.”

Crutchie laughed, only wheezing slightly with the effort. Definitely an improvement, Jack thought with a smile.

One of the nurses—Lindsay, her name badge said—entered the room then. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are almost over.” She stepped around the curtain to relay the message to the other patient in the room.

Jack stood, picking up his coat. He leaned over to squeeze Crutchie’s shoulder. “Alright, I’ll see ya tomorrow, with Jacobi’s, as soon as they’ll let me in.”

Crutchie grinned. “See ya, Jack. Thanks for decoratin’ my room.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. Sleep well,” he ruffled Crutchie’s hair before leaving the room, stopping to straighten the wreath on his way out.

As Jack exited the hospital, shrugging into his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck, he noticed a line of trees along the side of the hospital, their branches bare. He paused, mentally counting the windows, looking for Crutchie’s room.

And right there, near the end of the row, a tree sat outside Crutchie’s window.

It wasn’t late, he mused. He had time to run back to their apartment, grab some more decorations.

Jack flipped up the collar of his coat and set off into the cold night.

He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...
> 
> Important questions to ask about modern!Newsies and Mean Girls  
> *Who can recite the movie word-for-word?  
> *Who performs the dance to Jingle Bell Rock?  
> *Who asks who what day it is on October 3rd?  
> *Who claims to be the "cool mom" friend?  
> *Who praises the others with "Four for you, Glen Coco. You go, Glen Coco!"
> 
> Thoughts??
> 
> Ten points to your Hogwarts house if you can spot the _Bonnie and Clyde_ reference! (Hogwarts House must be specified in order to receive points. Otherwise they automatically go to Hufflepuff because that’s my house)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	9. Christmas Eve in the Hospital, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack's plan goes... very wrong.
> 
> ***
> 
> Set a few hours after the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten points go to Hufflepuff, because MultiFandomMcFrikinMess correctly guessed the _Bonnie and Clyde_ reference ("I'm gonna be like Billy the Kid")
> 
> Also, thank you to all who replied to modern!Newsies and Mean Girls. My favorite thing from all the replies was that, even though there were different opinions over who could quote the movie word for word and who the cool mom friend was, we all agreed that Racer would definitely be the one doing the Jingle Bell Rock dance.
> 
> And I think that's beautiful.

Jack hung up with Dave, dropping his phone in the chair next to him and sighing as he tilted his head back. The cast made his arm itch, and the fluorescent lights in the waiting room were too bright, made his head hurt. He closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable while he waited for Dave to come pick him up.

“What happened to your arm?”

He opened his eyes to see a girl about his age sitting across from him. She looked about as tired as he felt. Looking down at his bulky cast, Jack shrugged his right shoulder. “Fell out of a tree.”

“You… fell out of a tree? What are you, an acorn?” Her eyes widened, and she flushed, like she was embarrassed.

Jack barked out a laugh. “Nah, just tryin’ to be a good friend. My buddy’s on the first floor, and I was decorating the tree outside his window. Lost my balance and fell.”

She scrunched up her nose. “That sucks.”

He shrugged. “At least I fell outside a hospital.”

“True.”

“What about you?” He asked, taking in the bandage on her hand and the neat row of stitches on her forehead.

Sighing, she held up her hand. “Slipped on a patch of ice. Sprained wrist, seven stitches.”

“What a pair we make, huh?” Jack observed, stretching out his legs. “Christmas Eve in the ER, for completely avoidable accidents.”

“Avoidable for _you_ maybe,” she lifted her chin defiantly. “Who climbs a tree in the middle of winter?”

“Who doesn’t watch out for ice when it’s below freezin'?” he countered.

She studied him a moment, and he thought she might get up and leave. Instead, she held out her good hand. “Katherine Plumber.”

“Jack Kelly.” Their handshake was awkward, both having only their right hands free, but they managed without injuring themselves further.

“Big plans tomorrow?” he asked, before catching a glance at the clock on the wall. “Or… later today, I guess.”

“Resting, apparently. I’m supposed to be watched for twenty-four hours, to make sure I don’t have a concussion.” She rolled her eyes as though this was an insulting inconvenience to her. “You?”

Jack shrugged. “Comin’ back here, smugglin’ in some real food for my friend. Watch whatever Christmas movies are playin’ on TV.”

“What would you be doing if he wasn’t sick?”

Laughing a bit, Jack answered honestly. “Probably the same thing, but in our apartment. Kinda an ‘Orphan’s Christmas’ thing.”

He’s not sure how long they sat there, talking about family traditions, arguing over which Christmas movie was the best— _Christmas Vacation_ or _Home Alone_ —and if _Elf_ was still acceptable to be watching at their age. At some point, she migrated over to sit next to him. Jack was seriously thinking about going back and getting checked again, because it couldn't be normal, the way his heart was flipping in his chest.

Suddenly a short guy with glasses rushed in, his eyes landing on Katherine immediately.

“Kath! Are you okay?”

She batted away his hand, a furrow creasing her brow at the fussing. “Darcy, I’m fine. Stop being my mother.”

He shook his head, holding a hand out to her. “Come on, Clara’s pulling the car around. And give me your keys, I’m driving your car home. I cannot _believe_ you drove yourself here with a gash in your head—”

“And I was careful, drove under the speed limit, and didn’t die. So stop worrying.” She stood to leave, and Jack felt his stomach drop unexpectedly. It was late, he needed to get some sleep before he came back, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Then she stopped, turned back to him, a hesitant look on her face. “Can I—Can I sign your cast?”

That shouldn’t have made Jack feel flustered like it did. “Uh, yeah! Hold on, I usually have a Sharpie…” He fumbled awkwardly in his pockets a moment before finding a marker and holding it out for her. “Here ya go.”

Katherine uncapped the pen, carefully balanced his arm on hers, and signed her name on his cast. Jack tried to keep his breathing even, sure she could hear the pounding of his heart at her proximity.

Capping the Sharpie, she handed it back to him with a smile. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

“Merry Christmas, Katherine.” Jack watched as she left with her friend before looking down at his cast. On the inside of his arm, just along his thumb, he could make out a _Katherine_. And under that…

His eyebrows shot up, and Jack blinked hard, wondering if he was dreaming. He opened his eyes again. It was still there, in black ink. _Did she really—?_

“Oh my God, you actually broke your arm.”

Jack looked up to see Dave standing over him, his eyes wide. “Do you think I’d make something like that up?” He narrowed his eyes accusingly. “Is that why you took so long? You didn’t believe me?”

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Of course I believed you. The roads are pretty slick, though. And it’s not like you haven’t dragged me out in the middle of the night before.”

“Well I knew you wouldn’t be busy tonight. It’s Christmas Eve, for all us heathen Gentiles—”

“Okay," Dave interrupted him "Either you are over-medicated, or not medicated enough. Where is your nurse?”

“Aw, c’mon, Davey.” Jack whined. “I’m all checked out—just take me home. I gotta be back in a few hours to watch _A Christmas Story_ with Crutchie, and the kid’ll kill me if I fall asleep in the middle of it.”

Dave let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, let’s go.”

As Dave drove him back to his apartment, Jack moved the edge of his sling back to see Katherine’s name again. Tracing the digits of what he could only hope was really her number, Jack smiled a bit.

Maybe breaking his arm wasn’t the worst thing ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack does fall asleep. Crutchie doesn't mind too much, though, because he's too busy texting the girl who wrote her number on Jack's cast. 
> 
> ("Ya talked about her for the first half of the movie and only shut up 'cause ya fell asleep. What'd you expect me to do, Jackie? Hadta make sure you're good enough for her.")
> 
> ***
> 
> Ten points to your Hogwarts house if you can spot the _Dear Evan Hansen_ reference! (Again, house must be specified to receive points)
> 
> I have nothing against _Elf_ , by the way, I was just watching it when I wrote this chapter, and thought "I'm 21. Am I too old to be watching this movie?" Then I thought "Nah" and enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, apologies if these last two chapters seem rushed, or don't make a lot of sense. Life... really caught up with me this last week. You know those day where you wake up feeling like you're already behind? That's been all week. So. 
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	10. Christmas Morning with the Kelly's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day starts earlier and earlier with three kids who can't wait to see what Santa brought them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten points to both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw!! A lot of you caught the DEH reference yesterday—"What are you, an acorn?"—but J_Scarecrow and thinkingmakesusso were the first two to guess. 
> 
> Also, there way more Hufflepuffs out there than I realized and that just warms my cold heart <3

Katherine opened her eyes to a cold and gray Christmas morning. Rolling over to look at the clock next to their bed, she sighed and stretched slightly. Five-thirty was an ungodly time to be up, especially when she didn’t have to go to work.

The bed shifted next to her, and Jack draped an arm around her waist. “S’early,” he mumbled, sleep slurring his words a little.

She slid her hand down his arm to link their fingers. “Mmhmm.”

He settled beside her, burying his nose in her neck. “How long you think ‘fore the kids are in here?”

Katherine started to answer before she heard a door open and the floorboards creak as two sets of footsteps pattered across the floor. Hushed whispers floated down the hall. “Well, there’s Pete and Corey,” she mused.

A second door clicked open and, after a moment, the excited, high-pitched voice of their youngest, who hadn’t quite learned how to whisper yet, joined the other two.

“And there’s Lucy,” Jack said, as the footsteps in the hall faded a little.

Katherine tilted her head, listening. “They’re in the living room.”

There was a muffled squeal from Lucy that was quickly shushed by her brothers.

“Saw the tree. And—” Three sets of feet pounded against the wooden floor in the hallway. “Here they come…” Jack sing-songed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Rolling onto her back, Katherine turned her head to press her own kiss to his forehead. “Maybe if we lay really still, they won’t see us.”

His laugh, already muffled against her shoulder, was drowned out by the thumping of feet as their kids skidded into their room, leaping onto their bed.

“Mama, Daddy! Santa came!”

“Get up, get up, get _up_!”

“Mom, Dad, come _on_.”

Katherine laughed as Pete and Corey each grasped one of her hands and tried to pull her up, and Lucy bounced on the bed next to Jack, bracing her hands on his chest. “Noo,” she groaned. “Surely you’d rather sleep than open presents, right?”

“Mo _-om_ ,” Pete whined, tugging harder. “We slept _all_ _night_.”

“Yeah!” Corey exclaimed, dropping her arm to grab Jack’s instead. “Now we wanna open presents!”

“Presents!” Lucy repeated, slapping her hands on Jack’s chest.

“Okay, okay,” Jack laughed, sitting up and dislodging Lucy from his chest. “Go on, we’re right behind ya three.”

Cheering, the three kids climbed off the bed, racing each other to the living room.

Katherine sat up, huffing out a breath and blowing her bangs out of her face. “Remember when we had Pete, and we decided one wasn’t enough?”

“Yep.” Jack slid his arm around her.

She dropped her head to his shoulder. “What were we thinking?”

Jack laughed, tightening his arm around her. Katherine lifted her head to kiss him properly, cherishing this quiet moment they had. After presents, they had breakfast with her parents, Medda’s Christmas show that afternoon, and then meeting up with the boys for dinner (Corey, Pete, and Lucy were fascinated by Spot, much to his not-so-secret delight).

They parted softly, and he rested his forehead on hers. “Merry Christmas, Ace.”

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I got a cavity writing this. 
> 
> Hoping to shift back to some canon fics in the next couple of chapters. We'll see. At this point, I have no plan. *jazz hands* 
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	11. An Angel Come to Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "It's a Wonderful Life" AU no one asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why lie? This is kinda sad. Just briefly. But still.
> 
> (I know I promised no more sad for Christmas—I think I even pinky swore someone, which just makes this a greater offense—but sad is all I can seem to write at the moment. I did my best to keep the sad short and the ending happy, though)

Jack squinted at the girl next to him. He didn’t know what to make of this woman who threw herself off the Brooklyn Bridge to—what’d she say she was doin’?— _save him_? And now she was tellin’ him she was an _angel_?

“What’d ya say yer name was?”

“Katherine.”

“So, Katherine. If you’s an angel…” Jack drawled, knocking back the rest of his beer. “Where’s ya wings?”

She sighed, primly folding her hands on top of the table. “I’m what’s call an Angel Second Class. I have to earn my wings. And you’ll help me, won’t you?”

“How’m I s’posed ta do that?” He handed the bartender the last of his money to pay for his drink.

“You help me by letting me help you.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Don’t talk in riddles, alright? Can’t understand ya.”

Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jack, I mean—” Her hand dropped on the bar counter as the bartender opened the cash register with a cheery _ding!_ “Oh, someone just got their wings,” she said wistfully.

“What?” This was gettin’ more and more confusing. “Whaddaya mean someone just got their wings?”

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets their wings,” she said matter-of-factly.

Shaking his head, Jack decided to not even touch that one, and instead asked, “Okay, what about me helpin’ ya get ya wings?”

Katherine covered his hand with hers, causing Jack to shift in his seat. He was used to makin’ the first move, not… this. “Jack, I know how you’ve been feeling. You’re feeling like you’re not needed, like the boys don’t want you around, but you’re wrong.”

He pulled his hand away. “Ya don’t know nothin’ ‘bout me. I’s failed those boys more’n I’ve helped ‘em.” She started to say something, but he cut her off, barreling on with his thoughts.

“Look, I used ta know what I was doin’, an’ one o’ these days I was gonna shake the dust of this crummy city off my shoes an’ I’d be gone. Out West where there ain’t no buildin’s in my way, an’ fresh air…” He shook his head bitterly. “But tha boys needed me ta stick around, lead ‘em ya know. An’ I keeps screwin’ up everythin’.” Sighing, he rubbed his eyes with his hand. “Maybe tha boys don’ need me. Davey’s more’a the leadin’ type anyways. Maybe…”

Katherine interrupted him. “Jack, please,” she pleaded. “I know what you’re about to say, but don’t…”

“Maybe it woulda been betta if I’d never been born,” he said, spitefully, ignoring her.

Sighing, Katherine shook her head, frustrated. “You… are an _impossible_ boy, Jack Kelly.” She opened her mouth to say more before closing it and looking up at the ceiling. “You think that’ll work, Joseph?” she asked incredulously.

Jack tilted his head back as well, and, as he expected, saw nothing on the ceiling. “Who the hell ya talkin’ to?”

She ignored him, shrugging instead. “Worth a shot.” Snapping her fingers, a rush of air seemed to come from her fingers, whirling around the room.

When the wind died down, Jack shook his head, looking around. No one else seemed to notice anything different, just went about drinking an’ talking. “What was that?”

Katherine smiled, a bit sadly. “Congratulations, Jack Kelly. You were never born.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Katherine! Katherine, take me back! Take me _back_! Take me back to tha boys! I wanna _live_.” His voice cracked on the last word, his tears stung as the cold wind whipped around him.

 _What the hell_. She’d shown him some world, an awful world that _couldn’t_ be true; Crutchie was dead, Davey was at some dead-end job, workin’ too hard for too little, half his boys were in the Refuge, in gangs, the other half still Newsies and lookin’ worn-out, so tired, and it just wasn't  _right_.

It couldn’t be true, it _couldn’t_ , and Katherine had gone and disappeared on him, and Jack needed her here _now_ to fix this damn mess.

He gripped the railing of the bridge and hung his head. “Please, God. I wanna live.”

Caught up in his grief, Jack didn’t notice the wind pick up, the snow start to fall again, or the figure approaching him.

“Dammit, Kelly, what’re ya doin’ out here? You ain’t even got a coat on, stupid.”

Jack’s head jerked up to see Spot Conlon huddled in his coat, glaring at him through the snowfall.

“Spot?” he asked, disbelieving. “Ya know who I am?”

Spot cocked his head at him. “Yeah, only since ya became a Newsie, what, somethin’ like ten years ago? Ya really have gone crazy, Jackie.”

“I’m alive?” Jack still couldn’t believe it.

Rolling his eyes, Spot grabbed his arm, turning Jack around. “Not if ya stay out here without a coat, stupid. C’mon, ya boys are worried about ya.”

The mention of the boys snapped Jack out of his stupor, and he dashed under his eye, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. “The boys—? Crutchie! He’s okay, right? They’re all okay?”

Spot stared at him like he was crazy. “Kelly, you feelin’ okay? Everyone’s alright. Racer told me earlier that Crutchie’s fever broke, he’s okay. Worried about _you_ , they all are, but he’s okay.”

Jack laughed, too loud and slightly hysterical, causing Spot to take a step back in concern. “He’s alright!” he yelled, shaking Spot’s shoulders. “He’s alright, an’ I’m alive, an’ everythin’s good, Spotty!” Letting out another whoop, Jack took off down the street.

He skidded to a stop in front of the Lodging House and threw open the door. The rest of the Manhattan Newsies sat in the front room, speaking in hushed tones. He hadn’t heard them this quiet since… well, ever.

Les was the first to notice him, standing and pointing, with an excited “Guys!”

The rest of the Newsies turned and he grinned at them.

“Hey fellas.”

They erupted into excited shouts and exclamations as they swarmed to the front door, thumping Jack’s back and shaking his hand.

“Hey, Jackie!” Romeo shouted in his ear, arms around his neck.

“He’s back! Jack’s here!” Elmer hollered at anyone who’d stand still long enough to let him  

“Toldja he wasn’t gone forever!” Race declared proudly, jamming his cigar in his mouth and slapping Jack on the back.

“Jack?”

He looked up to see Crutchie at the bottom of the staircase, leaning on his crutch, still dressed in his nightclothes. His cheeks were still flushed, but he was smiling and looked much healthier than he had just a few hours ago.

Striding to his friend, Jack felt his face break into a grin. “Hey, kiddo. Ya look better.” He practically lifted Crutchie off his feet with his hug.

“Thanks, Jackie,” Crutchie grinned, wrapping his free arm around Jack’s waist.

Davey clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Good to have ya back, Jack.”

Suddenly, a bell hanging on their Christmas tree chimed cheerily.

Les tugged on Davey’s hand. “Davey, my teacher said that every time a bell rings, an angel gets their wings.”

It could’ve easily been someone shaking the tree, or a rush of wind from the open door, but it happened so abruptly, Jack couldn’t imagine it was a coincidence. Leaning around Crutchie, Jack took a closer look at the tree.

There was a Bible nestled in their little Christmas tree. Picking it up, Jack opened the front cover. Inside, in looping cursive, it read _Remember, Jack. No man is a failure who has friends. PS—thanks for the wings._

Jack smiled. “Thank  _you_ , Katherine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I love “It’s A Wonderful Life”. It’s just not Christmas without Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed.
> 
> So I've had the next chapter sitting in my drafts for a bit, saving it especially for tomorrow, and I know that one's happy, and by then I'll be done with finals, so after a good long nap, I'll be back and ready to write happy again. Stick with me, folks. The fluff will return.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	12. First Day of Hanukkah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we take a brief recess from Christmas fics for a Hanukkah interlude with the Jacobs'. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Set a year and a half after the events of "Write What You Know".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you I couldn't let this 'verse go...
> 
> For the lovely tuppenny.

Katherine sighed with relief as she stepped off the plane. There had been a screaming toddler behind her, the turbulence had been awful, and the man next to her had spilled his drink on her arm, erasing what Jack had written. She’d tried writing him back, but he must’ve been busy because her arms stayed blank.

Digging through her purse for her phone, she made her way to baggage claim. Her father had called her before the plane had taken off to tell her he had dinner plans with his colleagues, and he would be home late. Katherine was okay with that—all she wanted to do was get in a cab, figure out whether Jack was home or at Medda’s, and find him. Maybe find time for a shower and a nap. But, mostly, see Jack.

They knew it was going to be hard, attending school in separate states. Pressed for funds, Jack had stayed close to home, while Katherine had gone to Boston for journalism. It had been an unexpectedly difficult decision. They were in a better place than they’d been when they first started dating—Jack knew she wasn’t abandoning him, and she knew he wouldn’t force her to stay.

It wasn’t until she’d started missing him the minute he drove away after dropping her off, that Katherine realized just how hard it’d be.

But they’d made it.

Katherine had stood at the carousal almost ten minutes before she realized she hadn’t been paying attention, and had no idea if her bag had gone past her or not. Groaning, she scrubbed both hands down her face.

She opened her eyes to see, across her wrist, in Jack’s handwriting, _Ace, turn around_

It took a moment to sink in. When it did, she dropped her hands, grinning, and turned around. Katherine was already moving towards Jack before she even fully registered he was there. Laughing, choosing not to care that they were essentially a cliché, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him.

Jack laughed, too, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her up with his hug. "Hey, Kath!" He lowered her and she wasted no time taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

"Jack! What are you doing here?"

"What, a guy can't pick his girl up from the airport 'cause he missed her?" He kissed her again, resting his forehead on hers after. "I did miss ya, Ace."

She smiled. "I missed you too, Jack."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Let's get your stuff and go."

Katherine linked their fingers as they waited for her suitcase and didn't let go as they walked out the doors. "You're not working tonight, are you?"

"Nah," he shook his head as they crossed the parking lot. "Medda never makes me work first night o' Hanukkah. Which reminds me," Jack pulled her to a stop by the Jacobs' old minivan. "If ya not busy tonight, ya wanna come over for dinner? Sarah makes tha best latkes you ever had, and Esther always makes more than we can eat in eight days... But if ya can't, or whatever..." He shuffled his feet. It was endearing to Katherine that, even after a year and a half, he still got nervous asking her out.

Rising up on her toes to kiss his cheek, she assured him. “No, no. Dinner sounds great. Dad’s got a dinner meeting with his business partners, anyway. Didn’t really want to go home to an empty house.”

He grinned, kissing her before unlocking the van to set her suitcase inside. "Well, good. Esther an' Sarah've been buggin' me, askin' when you were gonna come over again. If I didn't know better, I'd say they missed you more than me," he winked, opening the passenger door for her.

It wasn’t until they were on the road that something occurred to Katherine. “Wait, Hanukkah? I thought you were Catholic. What’d you do, give it up for Lent?”

Jack laughed and shook his head. “Nah, Crutchie and I do our own thing on Christmas Eve. We just observe and take advantage of the good food. But the first night of Hanukkah's important to Mayer and Esther. Big family thing. Sarah and her fiancé will be there, too."

Katherine pulled her leg up in the seat, turning her body to face him. "Wait, where was I last year? I don't remember you talking about Hanukkah."

"Uhm,"Jack tilted his head back against the headrest. "Oh, right, you went on that trip with Clara and Darcy. So," he glanced over at her, grinning. “Whaddaya say, Ace? Ready for a good, old-fashioned Jacobs’ family Hanukkah?”

She grinned back. "Sounds great."

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

"Ugh," Katherine groaned, sitting down next to Jack on the floor in front of the coffee table. "The food was so good, but at what cost?"

"I warned ya," Jack laughed. 

"Don't listen to 'im, Kath," Crutchie said, slowly lowering himself next to them. "First year we were here, Jackie ate so much he couldn't move for three hours."

Jack gripped Crutchie's elbow, helping him sit down next to them. "Ya promised never to bring that up again," he muttered, and Katherine laughed.

"Oh, look. It's almost sunset," Crutchie deflected. On cue, Mayer brought out the slightly battered menorah and, striking a match, lit the  _shamash._ A slight hush fell over the room. Dave used the _shamash_ to light the first candle, and read the first blessing.

“ _Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha'olam, asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'had'lik ner shel Hanukkah._ ”

Quietly, Jack uncapped a pen and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. Katherine watched her forearm as Jack’s writing appeared.

 _Blessed are You, LORD_ _our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah lights._

Dave read the second blessing as the candle flickered softly. “ _Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha'olam, she'asah nisim la'avoteinu ba'yamim haheim baz'man hazeh._ ”

Katherine rested her chin on her knee as she watched Jack's translation appear under the first one. _Blessed are You, LORD_ _our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days at this time._

Mayer read the last blessing, the one they only read on the first night. “ _Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha'olam, shecheeyanu v'kiy'manu v'higyanu lazman hazeh._ ”

Jack had to swap hands to write on his other arm, and Katherine pushed up her sleeve to read the last translation.

_Blessed are You, LORD our God, King of the universe, who has supported us, protected us, and enabled us to reach this season._

As the prayer filled the room, Katherine gently took the pen from Jack and wrote  _You speak Hebrew?_

The prayer ended and the room filled with chatter again.

Jack shook his head, gesturing to her question on his arm. “Oh, definitely not. Looked up the blessings the first Hanukkah we were here. Figured if me and Crutchie was stickin’ around, we oughta know what was bein’ said.”

She slid her arm through his, leaning into him. “I’m glad you stuck around.”

“Me too.” Jack turned his head and pressed his lips to her hair. They sat there a moment in silence before he waved Les over. “Hey, kid, c’mere. We gotta teach Kath your dreidel game.”

“You sure you want your girlfriend to see you lose?” Les taunted, his hands on his hips.

Crutchie laughed, and Jack looked indignant. “Oh, tough guy, huh? Put your money where your mouth is, kid, and we’ll see who comes out on top.”

Les grinned and plopped down on the floor, passing out chocolate gelts.

“Settle in,” Sarah said, squeezing Katherine’s shoulder. “This could go on for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Les wipes the floor with them all. 
> 
> ***
> 
> I'm strangely into the idea of Jack being ambidextrous. Don't question it. I can't even explain it to myself.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know this is included with my Christmas fics, but this particular chapter is very much Hanukkah. I do not advocate the calling of Hanukkah "Jewish Christmas". 
> 
> Happy Hanukkah to any of my readers who celebrate! Please let me know if I got anything terribly, horribly wrong. Most of my information and translations came from the internet, and I double checked, but I'm not Jewish, so I had to rely on what I could find.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	13. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is over and all is quiet in the Kelly home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's done with her finals and reasonably sure she passed all her classes? *throws confetti* That's right, it's me:D
> 
> To celebrate, have some Kelly family Christmas fluff.

Katherine shifted, blinking slowly in the dim light. The only source of light in the room was the tree, which bathed the room in a muted glow.

It wasn’t late, not by any means, but after the day they’d had, all the excitement and sugar, the kids had crashed long ago.

Lucy was curled up with her head in Katherine’s lap; Pete was on Jack’s other side, legs dangling over the arm of the couch; Corey, who had inherited his father’s ability to fall asleep anywhere, was snoring lightly under the coffee table, head pillowed on his folded arms; and Jack was nodding off next to her.

Katherine, on the other hand, was beginning to feel her leg fall asleep and her back start to ache. “Jack,” Katherine said softly, nudging him.

He grunted in response.

She craned her neck to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Jack, wake up.”

“‘M awake,” he insisted, scrubbing one hand down his face, reaching for her hand with his other.

“We should get them to bed,” Katherine nodded down at Lucy. “Us too. We’re too old to be falling asleep on the couch.”

“Nah, Kath, we’ll never be old,” Jack pressed a kissed to her knuckles and stood, his knees popping loudly in the quiet room. Katherine covered her mouth, hiding her grin. “Don’t’cha say anythin’, Ace.”

She schooled her features into a neutral expression, standing and settling Lucy on her hip. “Of course not, dear.”

Lucy didn’t stir as Katherine carried her to bed and tucked her in, smoothing her hair back and kissing her forehead.

She closed the door softly behind her to see her boys making their way slowly down the hallway to Pete and Corey’s room. Jack had woken Pete enough to stumble to his room and managed to get Corey out from under the coffee table without waking him.

Katherine gently steered Pete into the room and helped him climb into bed, drawing the covers up to his chin. Brushing his cheek with her fingers, she squatted next to his bed. “Hey, sweetheart. Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed sleepily, nodding slowly.

“I’m glad. Goodnight, Pete.” She stood to kiss his temple.

“G’night, Mom.”

She brushed past Jack, who had just tucked in Corey with his new stuffed monkey Spot had gifted him just that day (really, Spot wasn’t fooling anyone anymore—they all knew he was a softie), and smoothed out the blanket covering him, kissing his cheek.

She heard Jack tell Pete goodnight behind her, and followed him out into the hallway. Leaning against the wall next to the door, Katherine closed her eyes and waited as Jack ducked into Lucy's room.

The door clicked shut softly, and she opened her eyes to see Jack standing outside their daughter's room. They stood in the hallway a moment before Katherine slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “Well, that’s another Christmas for the books.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissed the top of her head. Tilting her head back, she kissed him properly.

“I think this was my favorite Christmas.”

She felt, rather than heard, his laugh. “Ya say that every year, Kath.”

“I mean it every year,” she said, shrugging against him.

“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad,” he agreed, sliding his hand down to grasp her fingers and tug her down the hallway to their room. “I think ya dad only gave me two dirty looks durin’ breakfast. That’s two less than last year.”

Katherine bumped his shoulder with hers. “Three years of dating, two engaged, and nine years of marriage, and he’s finally warming up to you.”

“Fourteen years… That can’t be right, can it?” At her nod, he groaned, flopping onto their bed. “God, we are old, Ace.”

She slid her legs under the thick comforter, unwinding the thick braid she'd had her hair in. "First step is to accept it, babe," Katherine said, shaking out her hair and shimmying down to rest her head on the pillow.

Jack looked down at her with that tender look she never got tired of seeing, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. Sliding down next to her, he pulled the blanket over him, rolling over to drape his arm over her waist and kiss her cheek. "Don't hog all the blankets tonight, okay?"

Katherine rolled her eyes. She was most definitely _not_ the blanket hog in this marriage. "Goodnight, Jack."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is misleading, I realized after writing this piece. But I couldn't think of anything better, so...
> 
> The Kelly children will return again, awake and loud as ever.
> 
> Heart on the Trigger update: *throws more confetti since I haven't abandoned this story* Next chapter should be up by the weekend at the latest.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	14. Cat vs. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his defense, Katherine did let Jack keep the cat.

They watched helplessly as the cat slowly demolished their Christmas tree.

“In my defense… You did let me keep tha cat.”

“I know, Jack,” Katherine said, looking torn between defeat and laughter.

Her husband had brought home a scrawny-looking orange tabby cat—kitten, really, it was so small—weeks back, pleading with her to let him keep it long enough to get it well again. Jack, Crutchie, and Smalls had found her behind Jacobi’s and, since Crutchie and Smalls still lived in the Lodging House, she came home with Jack.

Of course, Katherine hadn’t turned away the poor thing. Her ribs poked through dirty orange fur, and one ear was torn and bleeding. Add that to three hopeful Newsies, well, Katherine had lost before the fight began.

Smalls and Crutchie came by every other day to check on Mamie—Katherine had read _The Little White Bird_ to the younger Newsies more times than she could count—helping Jack try to feed her and play with her.

Mostly, Mamie was a good cat, seeming too tired and hungry to be much trouble. She slept wherever she could fit herself, didn’t scratch anyone or anything, ate almost everything put in front of her.

But apparently she was feeling better now and was merrily destroying the Christmas tree.

Mamie poked her head through the branches, peering at the two of them, before going back to batting at one of the glass ornaments hanging from the branch.

Jack’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “’Least we ain’t put the lights up yet, right? The way she’s chewin’ through those needles, she woulda electrocuted herself by now.”

Mamie managed to knock down the ornament she’d been knocking around, and Jack winced as it shattered, laughter gone from his features.

“Okay, Mamie, outta the tree wit’cha.” He reached through the branches to retract the cat from the tree.

Mamie lunged towards him, but managed to get her back half caught, and the momentum of the action caused the tree to topple and Jack leapt back to avoid being pinned by it. The crash of a couple dozen glass ornaments seemed deafening in the living room.

Jack was frozen in the middle of the mess. His mouth gaped before he managed to spit out “‘M sorry, Ace. I know those were ya mother’s—”

A snort of laughter cut him off, and Jack looked up to see Katherine pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

“You... ain’t mad?” he asked cautiously.

She shook her head, still laughing. “Jack, those are— _were_ —the ugliest ornaments I’d ever had the displeasure of looking at with my own eyes. I took them to make Mother happy. I’ll gladly take any excuse to be rid of them."

Mamie pawed at the floor, looking baffled at the turn of events.

“Oh, pick her up, Jack, before she steps on the glass. I’ll get the broom." She turned to go into the kitchen.

Jack scooped up Mamie, who perched herself on his shoulder. “Ain’t she somethin’, Mamie?”

The cat nipped at his ear, which he took to be an agreement.

"We'll just have to figure out how to Mamie-proof the tree for next year," Katherine said as she reentered the living room with the broom and dustpan. Jack nudged Mamie onto the couch and took the dustpan from Katherine.

Squatting, he held the dustpan flat so his wife could sweep up the glass fragments. "Mamie-proof, huh?"

"Well, it's not like we can just hand over a devil cat to some unsuspecting family. That would be rude. And, besides, we'll have to baby-proof the tree next year, and that can't be too different—" Katherine's eyes widened as Jack slowly sat back on his haunches and looked up at her, gaze flickering between her face and her still-flat stomach.

"...A baby?" he whispered. "Ace, you mean—? Are you—?"

"Merry Christmas?" she said weakly, looking nervous about his reaction.

He stared blankly at her for a moment before his face split into a grin. "We're havin' a baby? You an' me? For sure, Kath?" Glass forgotten, Jack stood and gripped her shoulders.

She nodded, happy tears making her eyes shine. He let out a whoop and pulled her in, careful not to jostle her around to much—could the baby feel if he did? He'd have to ask Kath—and kissed her hard.

Jack pulled away, looking at her in awe. "Best Christmas ever," he whispered, before kissing her again.

Distantly, they heard the shattering of glass, likely Mamie somehow finding an ornament that was still intact and deciding to remedy that fact, but they didn't move away from each other, to wrapped up in each other to notice anyone outside of the two of them.

 _Three_ of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that went in a different direction than I was planning... This is a mess. If you can explain how we went from cat to baby, I would owe you big time, 'cause I'm still confused.
> 
> J.M. Barrie's "The Little White Bird" was published in 1902. The character Mamie was a sort-of precursor to what became Wendy Darling in his Peter Pan books.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	15. Will You Light My Candle?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'm trying to find a good Christmas candle for my mom. What do you think of this scent?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter has no connection to the song of the same name. I just like Rent. And the song. And the chapter has candles in it. 
> 
> ~~I’m very clever, haven’t you noticed?~~

Katherine was staring blankly at the display of winter-themed candles in front of her, trying to remember which distant relative she was buying a present for.

The Plumbers went all out for Christmas—too much food, too many relatives, too many questions about her career and love life. It was exhausting.

It was better with Lucy. Then, at least, she had someone to hide in the corner with, avoiding everyone and laughing at Aunt Irma’s atrocious holiday sweaters.

This was her third Christmas without Lucy. Really, she’d thought it would hurt less by now.

“‘Scuse me, miss,” a voice said beside her.

Without looking to see who was speaking, Katherine said flatly, “I don’t work here.”

Instead of driving away whoever was there, they laughed. “Ah, no, I know. Or guessed, anyway. I just wanted your opinion on somethin’.”

Really, she just wanted to pick something out and go home. Turning to tell the guy off, she looked up to see— _wow_.

He was a little taller than her, with dark hair and green eyes and a square jaw covered with a light scruff. It took her a moment to register that he was waiting for her to speak.

Shaking her head quickly, Katherine rushed to say something, anything normal, that wouldn't embarrass her, like  _God, you're attractive_. "Uhm, yeah, sure, I can help, or try, or—" She groaned inwardly.  _Great, Katherine, this isn't embarrassing_ at all. 

He didn't seem put off by her rambling. “I’m, ah—lookin’ for a candle for my mom. Whaddaya think of this one?” Awkwardly, he held out the candle in his hand to her.

She took a cautious sniff and made a face. “Ugh, no. It smells like…dirt and candy canes. If you love your mother, don’t get her that one.”

His eyebrows shot up at her blunt statement. "Uhm, alright. Thanks—uh, thanks for your time." He turned to leave, and Katherine felt a slight rise of panic, not wanting him to leave.

Which was stupid, she could admit. She didn't know him.

And yet...

"Hey, no, wait a sec." Ducking around a fellow shopper with a basket, Katherine caught up with him. "I—can help you find a candle. If you want. What kind of scent does your mom like?"

He gave her a look, and she thought he was about to tell her to get lost. But then he laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, she likes anything that smells like a bakery."

They spent the next twenty minutes laughing at the cheesy scent names and comparing different scents, before settling on an apple pie scented candle he said his mom would like. Katherine, still not entirely sure which relative she was supposed to be buying for, picked up a generic vanilla candle. 

After checking out, they stood outside the store, fidgeting with their bags, huddled in their coats. Finally he spoke.

"Well, thank you, for helping me find a candle..."

"Katherine. You're welcome..."

"Jack."

And that was it. They went their separate ways. Katherine figured she'd never see him again.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

A week after she met Jack at the store, on Christmas Day, Katherine found herself standing in front of Lucy’s headstone.

She didn't say anything, just stood in front of the grave, thinking.

Nights curled up on the couch, watching Christmas movies.

Making cookies and eating more dough than baking it.

Sneaking downstairs to see if they could catch Santa in the act.

Taking a deep breath, Katherine brushed the top of the headstone with her fingers and turned to leave. She didn't cry—this wasn't a day for sad memories, only happy ones. 

She was wandering through the cemetery, taking in the names of the dearly departed, when, suddenly, the scent of cinnamon and apples wafted towards her. Slowing, Katherine turned her head, trying to follow it.

And just a couple rows down, she saw the familiar back of a head of messy dark hair. It couldn’t be him—could it? It was too much of a coincidence for it not to be him…

As she neared, Katherine could hear him talking softly. The voice, that accent… It was Jack. What was he doing here?

“… And Les started goin’ around talking about his ‘girlfriend’. It’s nothin’ serious, the kid’s twelve, but Davey’s ‘bout to have a heart attack,” he said, laughing. Despite the dusting of snow on the ground, he sat with his knees drawn up to his chest in front of a headstone. She couldn't read the name on the headstone. At the base, flickering as it burned low, was the candle she’d helped him choose the other day.

“Not much to say on that subject for myself, Ma,” he said, resting his chin on his knees. “Nothin’ serious since Sarah. But there was this girl…” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I talked to her for maybe ten minutes. She hated my candle for you, helped me choose another, and just… walked outta my life. An’ I never believed in love at first sight, still not sure I do, but I—I might. For her.”

Katherine inhaled sharply. That was... loaded. She should walk away, this wasn't something she should be hearing, and "love at first sight" was a lot to take in, especially after spending half an hour with him. 

She really should walk away.

Her feet had a different idea, however, and she slowly approached him.

“A candle for your mom, huh?” She asked, lightly touching his shoulder.

Jack flinched a bit, almost falling backwards with the movement. “Wha—Katherine? What're you doin’ here?”

Katherine shrugged a shoulder, jerking her head back towards Lucy’s headstone. “My sister’s buried not far from here. Went for a walk. Smelled the candle.”

He tilted his head back, squinting in the weak sunlight. “You lost your sister?”

She nodded. “Car wreck. You?”

“Cancer.” Jack was quiet for a moment before looking back up at her. “You know, after I talk to my mom, I like to go to this little diner down the street. They have the best pie and eggnog this side of the Hudson. Would..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Would you like to join me?”

She bit her lip, considering. “I... I could go for pie."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up the candle, which had burned low, blew out the small flicker of light, and stood, holding out his hand to her. “Shall we?”

Katherine grinned, taking his hand. Together they left, hand-in-hand, out the cemetery, and onto the street, breathing in the December air, feeling lighter than they had in years.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

The next year, after careful scrutinizing, two candles were purchased.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me longer than I'm proud to admit to finish writing. There were some parts that just... wouldn't...write.
> 
> But it's done, and I can finally wash my hands of the matter.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	16. Spot Conlon is a Bad Influence (Christmas Edition)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Kelly kids return, Spot thinks the only good Christmas movie is _Die Hard_ , Race has a secret, and I try my hand at a little Sprace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tuppenny, who gave me this wonderful prompt. I ran with it, probably too far. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Note: not Jack/Kath-centric chapter, but their kids are back.

“You’ve never seen _Rudolph_?” Lucy’s dramatic gasp made Race laugh.

He and Spot had Jack and Kath’s kids for the afternoon, and, after three spirited rounds of Candy Land, they were trying to settle on a movie to watch.

“‘Course I’ve never seen Rudolph. What’s so great about ‘im?” Spot looked down at the youngest Kelly, who was staring up at him, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“His nose _glows_ ,” she said seriously, as though that was the answer to everything.

“Well, I’ve never seen it. ‘Sides, the only good Christmas movie’s _Die Hard_ ,” Spot insisted.

Pete narrowed his eyes at Spot, looking eerily like his mother. “If it’s so good, how come we never watched it?”

Shrugging, Spot moved towards their shelf of DVDs. “Well, we can fix that, lemme find it—”

“Uh, no, we are _not_ watching _Die Hard_ with three young, impressionable children, Spot.” Racer knew he wasn’t always the most responsible uncle these kids had, but even he knew that showing Katherine Kelly’s children _Die Hard_ without her knowledge was a good way to get strung up by his bootlaces.

Spot apparently wasn’t seeing this. “Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, why not?” Lucy copied, also crossing her arms, attempting to mimic Spot’s stance.

“Because I’d like for you to live through the holidays, babe, and that won’t happen if you show them _Die Hard_ because Kath _will_ kill you.” Race squatted in front of the DVD collection, searching for a more kid-friendly option. “Hang on, I think I have _Rudolph_ here somewhere.”

Spot knelt next to him. “Whaddaya have kid movies for?”

Race shuffled through the DVD cases. “Spot, they’re classics. Everyone has them.”

“You know what a true classic is?”

“If you say _Die Hard_ again I will make you sleep on the couch tonight. Go make popcorn or something. Be useful.”

“Yes, dear,” Spot said sarcastically, bumping Race’s shoulder with his.

Race got the movie set up, and Spot made popcorn, before settling the kids on the couch to watch _Rudolph_. Spot, unsurprisingly, wound up under Race’s arm, head on his shoulder. The kids squabbled over who got to sit by Spot, but Lucy, appearing sleepy and a bit teary, won out, curling into Spot’s other side.

Really, Race should have known watching this particular movie with Spot would be anything but uneventful.

“Why does his nose make a noise when it lights up?”

“Oh, God, it’s a musical. I didn’t sign up for a musical.”

“‘An Abominable Snow Monster’. Sure, why not?”

“Another song. That’s what this movie needs.”

“Elf practice? What the actual—”

“Spot,” Race finally interrupted. “I love you, but you have to stop.”

Groaning, Spot turned his face into the crook of Race’s neck. “Fine,” he muttered.

They finished the movie with relative quiet, only a couple more muttered comments from Spot and a sleeping Lucy by the time they reached the Island of Misfit toys.

Race stretched, glancing at the watch on his wrist. Jack and Kath probably wouldn’t be back for another hour or so. “Pete, you and Corey wanna watch another movie ‘fore Mom and Dad come get’cha?”

“Do ya have Grinch, Uncle Tony?” Corey asked, tilting his head back to look at him from his spot on the floor.

“Prob’ly, kid. You can check the DVDs.” Race looked down at Spot, who was giving him a skeptical look. “What?”

“Is this another musical?” Spot deadpanned.

Race answered carefully. “There— _may—_ be some musical aspects, yes.”

Spot groaned. “You’re killin' me, Racer.”

Laughing, Race pressed a kiss to the top of Spot’s head, which had fallen to his chest. He started to say something in reply, but stopped when he heard Pete and Corey talking by the movies.

“They gotta be.”

“They are _not_. They don’t have rings.”

“What are you two whisperin’ about over there?” Race asked them.

Pete turned to him, DVD case in his hands.“Uncle Tony, you and Spot aren’t married, are ya?”

Spot and Race exchanged a look. “Why would ya ask that?” Spot questioned, straightening on the couch a little.

“‘Cause you two act like Mom and Dad,” Pete said, wrinkling his nose slightly. “And _they’re_ married, but ya don’t have rings like they do.”

Race's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, no, kid. We live together, but we're not married."

"Why aren't you married?" Corey asked. "You love each other, right? Don't people who love each other get married?"

"Yeah, that's what Dad told us." Pete agreed. Both boys looked at them, expectant looks on their faces.

Suddenly, Spot and Race had a hard time looking at each other, shifting awkwardly on the couch, stalling, before Race disentangled himself from Spot and said, “Uh, you know... Spot, ‘m gonna go smoke. Go ahead, and put in the next movie, I’ll be right back.”

Race cut through their room and opened his window to step out onto the fire escape. Pulling out his battered pack, he jammed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs.

He sat there a moment, thinking about Corey’s question. Race thought he and Spot were good together, a little unconventional, maybe, but it worked for them. They’d been together longer than Jack and Kath had been when they got engaged.

_Why aren’t you married?_

“Because Uncle Tony’s a chicken,” he muttered to himself, taking another drag from his cigarette. Leaning back, Race reached into his the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the small ring box he’d been carrying around for three months.

He didn’t know what he was afraid of... Well, that wasn’t true. Race was afraid Spot would say no, say he wasn’t ready for marriage.

The wind picked up then, reminding Race that it was December and it was probably too cold to be smoking outside. Gripping the velvet box, he shoved it back in his pocket and snubbed the cigarette out with on the railing, adding the butt to the rest that littered the steps of the fire escape.

This wasn’t something he had to worry about today.

He ducked back through the window just in time to hear “ _Yippie-ki-ay, mother—_ “

“Spot!”

“What? I’m just showin’ ‘em the good parts!”

Clearly, he had more important things to worry about, like keeping his boyfriend from being killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kath allows Spot to live long enough to get engaged.
> 
> ***
> 
> Gah, I was nervous to post this... Sprace is new for me to write, but I wanted to try something different, so... here, I guess.
> 
> Believe it or not, this is my first Christmas watching _Die Hard_. It was... interesting, to say the least. Good action movie, and I love Bruce Willis, but it's not one I'd consider a Christmas movie. But that's my two cents..
> 
> Poll:  
> A) Die Hard is definitely a Christmas movie.  
> B) Die Hard is NOT a Christmas movie  
> C) What's Die Hard?  
> D) Stop making up polls and go write your next chapter ~~since you haven't even started yet~~
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	17. O, Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they wait for the tree at Rockefeller Center to light up for the first time, Jack and Katherine reminisce about Christmases past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I would describe this chapter as "bittersweet".

Two figures stood huddled in the mass of people, who were waiting for the big event. Chatter rose and fell around them, but these two… They stood quietly among the crowd, finding solace in each other.

Looking at them, one wouldn’t think they were much different from the rest. A normal couple in their fifties, dressed to fend off the cold.

His hair, still hidden under a worn Newsie cap, had long since faded to gray, a fact, his wife promised time and time again, that had given him a distinguished look. The laugh lines around her eyes had deepened, but he swore up and down that she’d never be old to him.

But the mischievous glint in the eye of the former union leader was still there, along with his strong artist’s hands, a little more weathered, a little aged, but still the hands she fell in love with. The determined set of the ace reporter was still there, and the warmth of her eyes still melted his heart.

Jack brushed a kiss to her hair, thinking about their past Christmases.

The year after the strike, when they went to Midnight Mass, stumbling and trying not to laugh as they tried to keep up with when to stand and when to sit (Kath had never attended a Catholic service, and Jack hadn’t been a years).

The Christmas a month after the Great War, still reeling from the death and destruction they’d both witnessed as soldier and correspondent, mourning the loss of friends and family, celebrating the fact that most of their family was still there to celebrate with them.

Christmas just three years ago, before the _World_ was shut down, when they were still oblivious to what was to come, and their son brought home his fiancée for their first Christmas all together.

Katherine held his arm a bit tighter, lost in her own memories.

The Christmas she told Jack she was pregnant, accidentally let it slip after their holy terror of a cat had destroyed their tree, the giddiness they’d felt at expanding their little family.

The year after her father died, a solemn affair with her family, Peter still too young to really understand why the normally festive holiday was so quiet (Jack took him to visit the boys after, to give him the sense of normalcy, while she stayed with her mother).

The first Christmas after the Stock Market Crash, when they managed to scrounge together a decent Christmas dinner together for their friends and family, finding hope in a hopeless time.

And this Christmas Eve, as they stood in the cold night, waiting with the crowd of people to see the tree lit at the newly constructed Rockefeller Center.

One minute they were standing in the dark, and the next…

The tree was lit up, bathing the entire crowd in soft light.

Looking up at Jack in the glow, with his eyes lit up brighter than the tree, Katherine saw the same seventeen-year-old boy she fell in love with so long ago. Their life together hadn’t always been easy, witness to both high times and hard times, but it had always, always, been full of love.

Stretching up on her toes, her knees only protesting a little, she kissed his cheek, rested her forehead against his jaw. “Merry Christmas, Cowboy.”

“Merry Christmas, Ace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical notes:
> 
> Pulitzer died on October 29, 1911, World War 1 ended on November 11, 1918, the Stock Market crashed on October 24, 1929, and Ralph, Herbert, and Joe Pulitzer Jr. sold the World to Roy W. Howard in 1931. Howard laid off the 3,000 employees after the final edition went out on February 27, 1931.
> 
> The first~official~Rockefeller tree lighting was in 1933, the same year that Rockefeller Center was completed. The tree was 50 feet tall.
> 
> You learn so much writing fanfic (or in history class, I guess)
> 
> Also, I'm super into the idea of Jack and Kath loving each other's hands. I'm learning so much about myself writing these fics;)
> 
> Heart on the Trigger update: Chapter five should be up tonight. Gotta make a few tweaks, but it'll be up sometime today, for sure.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	18. I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve, and Jack may not make it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this is a different Christmas than the one mentioned in chapters 10 and 13.

“Mama, do you think Santa would be able to change my present, or is it too late?”

Katherine brushed back Corey’s dark curls, her brow furrowing. It was Christmas Eve, and she wasn’t sure how she’d explain it to him when Santa couldn’t bring a new gift in the morning. “I don’t know, baby. He might. What do you want Santa to bring you?”

“Daddy home for Christmas.”

 _Me too_ , Katherine thought wistfully, smoothing his blanket. Smiling at her youngest boy, she tried for reassuring. “I don’t know if he can do that, honey, but if anyone could bring Daddy home for Christmas, it’d be Santa.” _Any decent pilot will do at this point_.

Jack had flown out to Chicago just three days ago, not exactly thrilled to be flying so soon to Christmas. But he’d done everything he could to insure he’d be home the twenty-fourth.

Unfortunately, the weather had different ideas. A surprise snowstorm over New York had cancelled any flights in or out of the state. He’d called, apologetic and frustrated, to tell her an hour ago, before the kids wheedled him into reading _‘Twas the Night Before Christmas_ over the phone.

Lucy, thankfully, hadn’t seemed to realize exactly what was going on, and went down easily, expecting her daddy to be there in the morning. The boys, on the other hand, had picked up on it immediately, and had had slightly worried looks on their faces all night.

She brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Now, the faster you go to sleep, the faster Santa can come.”

Corey snuggled deeper into his pillow, nodding. “Night, Mama.”

“Goodnight, Corey.” She moved across the room to Pete’s bed, where her oldest was still sitting up in bed, worrying the edge of his blanket. “You okay, Pete?”

“Yeah… it’s just, Christmas will be weird without Dad, won’t it?”

Sighing, Katherine sat on the edge of his bed. “A little. But I’m sure he’ll be back in time for dinner tomorrow night. Are you excited to see everyone?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah, Uncle Charlie said we could build gingerbread houses, and Uncle Tony and Spot said we could blow up the worst one after.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah, okay, we’ll see about that last one. We don’t need another Christmas going up in flames.” Kissing the top of his head, Katherine stood and made sure Pete’s blanket was tucked securely around him. “Night, honey.”

“Night, Mom.”

Closing the door gently behind her, Katherine sighed softly before turning to go into the living room and prepping the living room for the morning—filling up the stockings, setting out presents from Santa. It took longer by herself and, after, she trudged tiredly down the hallway to her and Jack’s room, and went about her nightly routine mindlessly.

She crawled into the empty bed, sighing as her head hit the pillow. The bed always felt too big when Jack was gone and, after over fifteen years of being with him, Katherine wasn’t sure if she remembered how to sleep alone anymore.

“God, Katherine, it’s one night, don’t be pathetic,” she grumbled to herself, rolling over and pulling Jack’s pillow to her chest. Burying her nose in the pillowcase, she breathed in his scent—something spicy and familiar and so utterly _Jack_ —and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come.

She opened her eyes after what felt like mere minutes to feel the bed dipping next to her and cold lips press to her hair. Katherine blinked blearily, scrunching her nose. “What—?” she looked up to see her husband smiling softly at her. “Jack!” Sitting up quickly, she narrowly avoided knocking their heads together.

He laughed as she threw her arms around him. “Careful, Ace, you’re gonna make me think ya missed me or somethin’.” His tone was teasing, but he brought his arms up to wrap around her.

She turned her face into his neck, holding him tighter despite the chill that clung to his clothing. “Didn’t think you’d be home tonight. Thought there was a snowstorm—Wait,” she pushed back a bit to look at him. “Santa didn’t bring you, did he?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, looking confused. “What?”

“Never mind.” Katherine kissed him, murmuring against his mouth, “I’m glad you’re home.”

He sighed, cupping her cheek with his hand. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They manage to wake up before the kids, slap a bow on Jack's head, and sit him under the tree.
> 
> (Corey is very excited Santa heard his wish--they all are)
> 
> ***
> 
> You didn't really think I'd keep Jack away for Christmas, did you??
> 
> ...
> 
> Okay, given my track record for angst, I can see how you'd think that...
> 
> Fun fact: the "blowing up the worst gingerbread house" is based on true events. When I was, like, nine, my uncle actually blew up a gingerbread house with a firecracker after our gingerbread house building contest. It was very exciting to nine year old me.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	19. The Great Newsie Snowball Fight of 1899

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I use the word 'snowball' so many times it's not even funny.

Les started it, that much they could all agree on.

The Newsies were outside the _World_ , waiting for the headline to go up, huddled in their coats and hats pulled low over their ears to ward off the cold.

Jack and Davey stood off to the side, watching the other Newsies squabble good-naturedly about what the headline would be, when Jack was hit in the back of the head and something… cold slid down his neck, under his coat.

“What th’ _hell_ —?” he yelped, turning around to see Les and Crutchie, eyes wide, hiding laughs behind their gloved hands. “Oh, you two’s dead for sure now!” Scooping up a handful of snow, he hurled it at them.

But the two younger boys were too quick and ducked, and the snowball intended for them hit Romeo, square in the face.

“ _Jack_!” he sputtered. “That’s my money-maker, ya no-good, lousy—!” He was cut off when Rosie hit him with her own snowball. Slowly wiping the snow from his eyes, Romeo turned to the small Newsie. “This. Means. _War_ ,” he said lowly.

Suddenly, the Manhattan Newsies were in an all-out, no-holding-back, snowball fight.

Jack dove behind one of the wagons for cover and started making as many snowballs as he could. Davey fell beside him, hit by one of Tommy Boy’s snowballs.

“C’mon, Davey! We’s at war, man, look alive!” he yelled over the noise, shoving a snowball in Davey’s hand.

“How do we know who we’re fightin’?” Davey asked.

“If they throws somethin’ at ya, hit ‘em back!” he replied, standing and throwing a snowball at Race, who still somehow had his cigar intact. Jack turned his head just in time to avoid getting a face-full of Blink’s snowball, and ducked back behind the wagon.

Davey was still hiding down there, but now, he was holding down the fort, packing snowballs and throwing them with impressive accuracy.

Jack looked up to see Katherine standing at the entrance to Newsies Square, looking equally amused and bemused. Arming himself with a snowball in each hand, Jack ran for the entrance, hitting Elmer and Specs before he reached her.

“Jack! What are you—?”

Jack ducked behind Katherine, holding her in front of him like a human shield. “There, none of ya'd throw a snowball at Kath’rine, now wouldja?!” he yelled over her shoulder. The Newsies froze, snowballs in hand, watching him.

“Now we’s just gonna back out slowly, so don’t none of ya try nothin’.” Pulling Katherine with him, Jack started backing out of Newsies Square. He could feel her shaking with laughter.

They’d nearly made it when Rosie suddenly got brave, chucking her snowball at them. Her action spurred the others, and Jack and Katherine were met with an onslaught of snowballs, hitting them from all sides.

“C’mon!” he dragged her behind the building, this time shielding her from the attack. Once they were behind cover, Jack looked at her with a grin. “Hey, Ace.”

“Hi,” she said with a laugh. “This is a new way of saying hello, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “Nah, that was just ‘good mornin’, Ace. This,” he pecked a kiss to her lips “is ‘hello’.”

“Well, hello.” Katherine kissed him again, pulling back to ask, “What’s with the snowball fight, other than a ‘good morning’?”

“Aw, snow makes ‘em crazy. And Les started it,” he added as an afterthought.

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded, brushing snow out of his hair. “And… who kept it going?”

“Yeah… that mighta been me.”

“I see,” Katherine nodded again, seriously. “Well,” she bent down to scoop a handful of snow. “I have to be at the office in ten minutes. Think you can help me get out of here?”

Laughing, Jack kissed her quickly and knelt to form his own snowball. “Stick wit’ me, Ace. I’ll get’cha through.” Gripping her hand, they moved to the corner of the building and, after a quick squeeze, they broke into a run, joining the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you use a word so often, it doesn't feel real anymore? That's snowball for me after writing this...
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	20. Saint Nicholas vs Judah Maccabee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s a little weird when you really think about it. Guy in a red suit, living in a magical place, judging children for most of the year. That doesn’t freak you out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last day of Hanukkah, please enjoy a highly intelligent theological discussion. 
> 
> (or something like that)
> 
> ***
> 
> Set in the "Write What You Know" 'verse, eight days after Chapter 12 (though, really, the only reference is Jack and Davey sharing a room).
> 
> ***
> 
> Fair warning, I may have had too much fun writing this exchange.

“All I’m saying, Jack, is it’s a little weird when you really think about it. Guy in a red suit, living in a magical place, judging children for most of the year. That doesn’t freak you out?”

“Davey,” Jack groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “It’s after sundown, which makes it Christmas, and you are ruining Christmas for me.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.” Dave protested. “Christmas isn’t for five more days.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack rolled onto his back. “Saint Nicholas’ feast was the sixth, so I think the argument can be made that Christmas starts then.”

“Yeah, _well_ ,” Dave mimicked. “People actually know what Hanukkah is.”

“Oh, you’re gonna play it like that?” Jack asked, mock offended.

They'd been having the same conversation every year since Jack moved in. It was as traditional the menorah lighting and Midnight Mass for Jack and Crutchie.

“And what about the naughty and nice list?” Dave continued. “What are his criteria for that? How does he decide which kids are good and which kids are bad?”

“Now that,” Jack admitted. “I’m pretty sure was a myth parents made up so their kids would behave. Saint Nicholas gave gifts to every kid who left their shoes out for him, good or bad.”

Dave sat up, giving Jack and incredulous look. “In their _shoes_? That’s weird. Keep your shoe gifts. Hanukkah rules.”

“Not weird, Davey, _tradition_. Like you and the candles.”

“We burn the candles to remind us how we only had enough oil for one day and it burned for eight days.”

“Well, my guy can go around the world in _one_ night.”

“ _My_ guy led a full-scale rebellion against the Syrians.”

“Your guy was called ‘the Hammer’.”

“Eight nights of presents.”

“Eight flying reindeer. Plus,” Jack added, lifting his head from the pillow. “One with a nose so shiny, one could even say it glows. Top that, Jacobs.”

“Latkes and sufganiyots. Suck it, Kelly."

“Okay, Davey. You win,” Jack consented, laughing. “And, y’know, kids grow outta believin’ in Santa. S’far as I know, ya don’t just grow out of being Jewish.”

Dave laughed, lying back down, sliding an arm under his pillow. A thought occurred to him, and he was surprise to realize he'd never asked Jack this. “When did you stop believing, Jack? In Santa?”

Suddenly the good-natured atmosphere in the room was dispelled. Jack was quiet before answering flatly. “The Christmas after my mom died. Dad thought I was too old to be believin’ it that kinda thing.”

“Weren’t you six when your mom died?” Dave asked, looking over at Jack in surprise.

“Yep.”

Dave was quiet a moment. Over four years of living with Jack, and he’d never known that. He sighed softly and rolled over to click the light off.

“Merry Christmas, Jack.”

He heard Jack huff out a laugh. “Happy Hanukkah, Davey. Same time next year?”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Feast for Saint Nicholas is on December 6th, on the anniversary of his death. There's actually a lot of cool stuff on St. Nick, should you feel inclined to look into it (for instance, he was the patron saint of sailors before he was a saint over children)
> 
> I also learned a lot about the history of Hanukkah, and the Maccabees, and contrary to what Friends may lead you to believe, there is not one account of Superman being involved. Judah Maccabee, however, was one of the leaders of the rebellion, was called the Hammer. There's debate about how he got the name, some saying it was his weapon of choice, some saying the name "Maccabee" derived from the Aramaic word "maqqaba", meaning "hammer".
> 
> I really like learning new stuff, okay?
> 
> Happy last day of Hanukkah to any of my readers who celebrate!! I hope it was a wonderful eight days for you.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	21. Grande-Quad-Extra-Whip-Mocha Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spot Conlon doesn't have a crush, and Racer's known as Grande-Quad-Extra-Whip-Mocha Guy.
> 
> i.e. the Christmastime Sprace Coffeeshop AU no one asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Grace, who made Spot a barista in her story "One of Us", which happens to be literally the greatest thing ever.

Spot sighed as he wiped down the already-clean counter.

It was late Christmas Eve and, lucky him, he’d drawn closing shift. There was no one else in the shop, and the only music any radio station was playing was Christmas music. So far, he’d suffered through three different versions of “Baby It’s Cold Outside”, and if he heard those damn chipmunks one more time, he was sticking his head under the espresso machine.

Throwing down the rag, Spot eyed the floor he’d mopped twenty minutes ago, seriously considering just… laying down and taking a nap for the last hour and a half of his shift. Before he could make a definitive decision, the bell rang as a customer walked in.

He looked up, surprised, to see… _Aw, shit._ It was Grande-Quad-Extra-Whip-Mocha Guy.

Spot had to identify him by his coffee order, because the little shit never gave him a real name. Which normally wouldn’t bother him, but Spot wished he had a name to go with the messy curls, the long legs, the slightly crooked smile—

He shook his head quickly, glad none of his coworkers or friends was there, or they’d start teasing Spot about his “crush”— _not_ that he had a crush. Not Spot Conlon.

Sure, maybe he put a little more whip cream on the guy's coffee than was strictly per policy. That was just good customer service. And, sure,  _maybe_ his hand lingered a bit when he handed back his change. Spot just didn't want to drop it all over the counter and look like an ass.

But it wasn't a  _crush_.

Surely, there had to be another explanation for why his stomach flipped when he saw the familiar blonde head enter the shop. “What can I get ya?”

“A, uh, grande quad mocha with extra whip, please.”

Spot steeled himself as he pulled the Sharpie from his apron pocket and asked “And the name on that?”

"Racetrack.” And there was that shit-eating grin Spot most definitely did _not_ find endearing.

He managed to ignore it in favor of slapping the marker down on the counter. “Okay. It was cute when you said your name was Batman, and even the time you said a random number was funny when it confused the shit outta everyone, but Racetrack? That ain’t even a name.”

Grande-Quad-Extra-Whip-Mocha Guy raised an eyebrow. "Cute, huh?" he asked, the shit-eating grin stretching into something more genuine.

Dropping his gaze quickly, Spot scrawled _Racetrack_ across the cup and turned to make the drink. Grande-Quad-Extra-Whip-Mocha Guy had a way of making him feel flustered and Spot Conlon didn't  _get_ flustered.

_Just make his drink, take his money, and he'll be outta ya hair._

But then Grande-Quad-Extra— _screw it, Racetrack's easier to say_ —Racetrack surprised him by sticking around after he paid for his coffee. They... talked, something Spot didn't really do with anyone, except maybe Jack, and even then it was only because they'd been shoved in the same group home for two years.

But with Race, he talked easier than he had with anyone. 

The rest of Spot's shift flew by with Race there to help the time pass. They ate the last of the gingerbread cookies—the ones Spot would've just had to throw out anyway—and he told Race about his home growing up in Brooklyn, how he went to four different schools his junior year. Race told him about running away from home when he was sixteen, and how he'd wanted to dance since as long as he could remember.

It felt like they'd talked for hours, when Race said, out of the blue, "Y'know, you're my favorite barista here. Or whatever ya call it."

"Why?" Spot wasn't rude to customers, wouldn't still have his job if he was, but he had a tendency to be gruff, and that hardly made him anyone's favorite. 

"You're the only one who doesn't stare at me when I ask for four shots of espresso in my coffee." Race said matter-of-factly.

"Why do ya drink so much espresso? Ya seem ta be doin' pretty good on energy without it."

Race shrugged. "Gave up smoking a couple years back. Apparently I've replaced it with caffeine."

Spot laughed. "One vice for 'nother?"

"Something like that." He bit the head off another gingerbread man. "What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Am I your favorite customer?"

 _Yes_.

"Well—uh," Spot cleared his throat before glancing at the time on his phone. "Look at that—time for me ta close up."

Race didn't comment on Spot's abrupt change in subject, except to sigh softly as he stood and stretched. "Yeah, I should prob'ly head home."

He surprised Spot again by waiting for him to turn off the appliances in the kitchen, grab his coat, and turn off the lights before locking the front door. They stood there a moment, Race tugging at his scarf and Spot fidgeting with the keys to the shop. Normally, he couldn't wait to get back to his apartment and crash after a shift, but tonight...

Race started to say something, but stopped, tilting his head back and looking up at something above them. Spot followed his gaze, clenching his jaw when he remembered.

He’d jokingly—and grudgingly—asked Davey to hang up mistletoe, because if Jack didn’t grow a pair and kiss Katherine already, Spot was locking them in a damn closet and not unlocking it ‘til they made out.

Now he was paying for it.

Race looked between the mistletoe and Spot, eyebrow raised. Willing back the heat that threatened to rise in his cheeks, Spot started to ramble.

 _What the hell, man? Ya don’t_ blush _, ya don’t ramble on like an idiot._

Nevertheless, the words tumbled out of his mouth, and there was no way of stopping them.

“That’s just—uh—just… ignore that, see, I have these friends—well I’m more friends with him than her—and, well, they just need to get _laid_ or somethin’, and I had another friend—he’s tall, taller’n me, anyways—hang it up, give ‘em a nudge, or whatever—wow, you’re gettin’ real close, there, what are you—”

The words died in his throat as Race took a step closer to him, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips before lowering his mouth to Spot’s.

Their lips met with just the faintest of brushes before Race pulled away slightly, just enough to be understood. “Uh, my name’s Anthony,” he said, before leaning back in.

But there was no way Spot could just let that go. Stopping him with a hand to his chest, Spot put some distance between them. “Wait, _Anthony_?”

“Yeah…?” Race drawled, looking confused.

Smirking, Spot wound a hand in Race’s scarf, pulling him back, stopping with their lips an inch apart. “I see why you used the fake names,” he teased, before kissing him for real.

So.

Maybe Spot Conlon _did_ have a crush. 

 _Well, shit. It's a Christmas miracle_ , he thought, pulling Race closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I almost wrote "Spot sighed as he wiped down the spotless counter" and had to pause for a moment to bang my head against the keyboard.
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	22. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Davey and Crutchie attempt to play matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I had painfully little Davey and Crutchie in these chapters and decided to remedy that, so please enjoy oblivious Jack/Kath and Davey/Crutchie bromance.

 

“Okay, so what all have we tried?”

Crutchie sat down at one of the tables in the break room, leaning his crutches against the chair next to him. “We got ‘em put on—three?—assignments together, includin’ that out-of-town one.”

“Yeah, how’d you pull that off?” Dave asked, sitting across from him. “Jack hasn’t been on long enough to go out of town for the paper.”

Straightening in his chair, Crutchie pretended to look affronted. “I’m a real charmin’ guy, Davey, surprised ya haven’t figured that out yet.”

Dave gave Crutchie a dubious look.

The shorter boy shifted his weight under the incredulous gaze. “Okay,” Crutchie finally muttered. “I bribed Hannah from the secretary pool to switch the schedules around.”

“Hannah?” Dave looked impressed.

“Oh, yeah. She’s just about as invested in those two as we are.”

“And here I was, going to Bunsen.”

Shaking his head at Dave, Crutchie took a sip from his water bottle. “Bunsen? Oh, Davey. Don't worry, you’ll learn.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Okay, so what else have we done?”

They’d been trying for months to get Jack and Katherine together. Schemes, hints, outright telling them they’d be great together. Nothing worked. Even Spot was in on it, asked Dave to help him put up mistletoe in the coffee shop he worked at and they frequented.

(Actually, Spot was working alone before he swallowed his pride and asked Dave for help. It was only after he’d criticized Dave’s mistletoe-hanging ability that Spot was on board)

“There was the dinner to celebrate Jack’s first year, where we all ‘conveniently’ had to cancel,” Crutchie counted on his fingers, leaning back to think. “The three assignments, the company picnic—”

“—the time Katherine had to stay late, and we convinced Jack he had to stay, too. Mistletoe at the coffee shop.” Dave rubbed his eyes. “Shouldn’t somethin’ have worked by now?”

Crutchie shrugged. “Honestly, I thought they woulda gotten together after that last assignment. After Kath got hurt? Jackie was outta his mind.”

Shaking his head, Dave slid his hand to the back of his neck. “Surely there’s somethin’ we haven’t tried.”

Twisting the water bottle between his hands, Crutchie was quiet for a moment before he suggested “We could lock ‘em in a closet.”

Dave dropped his hand and gave him a dry look. “Charlie, what have I said about listening to what Spot says?”

“I’m just sayin’! It might work.” Crutchie held up his hands defensively. 

Dave laughed as Hannah approached with plastic bowl. “Hello, Dave, Charlie. We're doing Secret Santa again for the office party this year. Are you two participating this year?"

They agreed and each drew a name from the bowl, and Hannah left after giving them the specifics.  

Crutchie paused with the slip of paper in his hand. “Hey, Davey. What if Jack and Kath got each other for Secret Santa? Think that might give ‘em a push?”

“Secret Santa’s random, what if they don’t get each other?”

“What if we made it… not random?”

Dave leaned back thoughtfully. “It’s possible. Big holiday, personal gifts. Could be what they need. But if this doesn’t work, we should seriously consider the closet idea, because I’m out.”

Crutchie grabbed his crutches, standing up slowly. “Alright, lemme tell Hannah ‘fore she gives ‘em someone else.”

Near the end of the day, Crutchie made his way over to Jack’s desk. “Heya Jack.”

“Hey Crutchie,” Jack said distractedly. “Sorry, can’t really talk, I gotta finish this layout.”

“That’s fine, just wonderin’—did Hannah come talk ta ya about Secret Santa?” He leaned against Jack’s desk, propping his foot up on the open file cabinet drawer.

Jack squinted at his computer screen. “Don’t think so.”

“Great! I mean—She told me about it earlier, and I got ya a name. Woulda been awkward if ya had two names, and… Jack?” Crutchie leaned towards Jack a bit, trying to catch his eye.

He finished positioning the graphic on the screen before looking up, slightly startled that Crutchie was still there. “Right! Sorry, ya said somethin’ about Secret Santa?”

“Yeah, got’cha a name. Here,” he handed Jack a folded slip of paper.

Jack took it from Crutchie. “Thanks, kid. Listen, I’m almost done here, then I’ll be good ta drive ya home, okay?”

“Take ya time, Jack. I got some stuff to finish ‘fore we leave, anyways.” Crutchie stood to leave, head back to his desk, when he turned back to see Jack read the name on the paper and grin.

Later, Dave caught up with Katherine as she was packing up for the day. “Hey Kath.”

“Hi, Dave,” she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder and reaching over to power down her computer. “Can I help you? I’m on my way out.”

“Nah, it’ll just take a sec. Did you get a Secret Santa yet?”

Pausing to think, Katherine shook her head. “No, I didn’t. Is that Hannah’s thing?”

“Yeah, Hannah. She caught me and Crutchie earlier, and I got you a name.” He handed her the piece of paper.

“Oh, thanks Dave,” Katherine said, unfolding it. Reading the name, she smiled softly.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Dave asked, “Who’d ya get?”

Stuffing the paper in her pocket quickly, Katherine brushed past him to go to the elevator. “I can’t _tell_ you, Dave. That would defeat the purpose of Secret Santa.”

“Of course. What was I thinkin’?” he consented easily. “See you tomorrow, Kath.”

“Night, Dave,” she waved as the doors to the elevators slid closed.

Pulling out his phone, Dave texted Crutchie to let him know their plan was in full swing.

Now it was just up to those two idiots to figure out the rest.

The next week brought about the office Holiday Party. Soft music drifted from the speakers, the eggnog was flowing, and Dave and Crutchie were watching Jack and Katherine from across the room.

“Have they exchanged gifts yet?” Crutchie asked, craning his neck to see better. Jack and Katherine were on the outskirts of the party, by Jack’s desk, while Crutchie and Dave were trying to watch them discreetly from Dave’s desk.

“I don’t know,” Dave said, frustrated. “I can’t see anything.”

Crutchie shifted in his chair. “D’ya know what he got her?”

“No, neither one of them would talk.” Dave crossed his arms over his chest.

“Y’know, I gotta say, Davey. That is a very lovely sweater,” Crutchie said with only a hint of sarcasm.

Dave moved his hands to tug down the hem of his blue Hanukkah sweater. A white menorah was stitched in the middle with the words “It’s Lit” over it. “Thanks. Sarah got it for me. Les got one, too. It has—”

“Wait, wait, wait, Davey, they’re kissing. Davey!” Crutchie interrupted, shaking Dave’s shoulder, his eyes wide.

“That _worked_?” Davey asked disbelievingly. “Everything we tried, and the stupid Secret Santa gift worked?”

They froze, caught somewhere between shock that their months of planning paid off, happiness for their friends, and slight disappointment in the anticlimactic nature of the events unfolding.

Shaking his head, Dave said, “I can’t help but feel like we’re responsible for that.” 

“I agree,” Crutchie said with a grin. “Cheers, Davey.” They tapped their plastic cups of eggnog together before taking a drink

Across the room, Katherine pulled away from Jack. “They’re staring,” she said.

He laughed, cutting a glance to Dave and Crutchie, who were, indeed, staring. “I know, Ace.”

“When are you going to tell them we’ve been dating for two months and they’ve been trying to set us up for nothing?”

“Aw, it’s Christmas, Kath.” Jack kissed her again. “Let ‘em have this one." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, Hannah ships it, too. 
> 
> I'm honestly kind of tempted to expand this a li'l bit-- like, their out-of-town assignment (bed-sharing trope anyone?) But if it happens, it definitely won't be until after these are done and I get a little further into "Heart on the Trigger".
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love and sanity!


	23. The Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Newsies are Squad Goals, Race is the Cavalier, the pretty reporter won't talk to Jack, and Dave just hopes they don't get thrown out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Kath meet, brief Spot/Race, and a whole lotta Newsies friendship.

A dozen boys flooded the auditorium, weaving between the other theatregoers, looking out-of-place with their shabbier clothing, talking too loudly than was strictly acceptable for the setting.

They’d cleaned themselves up for opening night of _The Nutcracker_ at Medda’s theater. Normally, this group of boys wasn’t interested in the ballet, but their friend, who they’d all watch go through audition after audition, break in countless pairs of ballet shoes, had finally gotten a part.

And if there was one thing these boys knew how to do, it was show up and support.

“Hey!” the leader of the ragtag team, Jack, called to the rest, stopping beside one of the aisles. “This is us—half here, half there.”

The group filed in, climbing over each other, and the chairs, swapping seats almost immediately after sitting.

“Lookin’ real tough with those flowers, there, Conlon,” Albert goaded.

Spot, to his credit, managed to maintain his tough stature, despite being four inches shorter than Albert and holding a bouquet of flowers. “Shaddup, DaSilva. They’re Race’s favorite. And don’t think I won’t soak ya just ‘cause we’re in a theater.”

“Please, don’t,” Dave said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we— _please_ —have one night without getting thrown out of a public place?”

“Aw, Spotty won’t do anythin’,” JoJo taunted. “He doesn’t wanna miss his boyfriend.”

“Hey,” Jack interrupted before Spot could say anything. “Ya heard Davey. We’re here to support Racer, and we can’t do that if ya idiots get us thrown out.”

Behind him, he heard a slight snort. Turning, he was met with a girl about his age with long auburn hair, opening a notebook and pulling out a pen.

He leaned over to talk to her. “Ya know, it’s not required to take notes durin’ the show.”

She didn’t look up at him. “I’m writing a review of the show for the _Sun_.”

“Workin’ girl, huh? Well my friend’s in the show, he’s the Cav-Cavalier,” he stumbled slightly over the title. “So don’t be too hard on ‘im, okay?”

“You mean…” she flipped through the program. “Anthony Higgins?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, that’s him, but we just call ‘im Racetrack.”

“‘We’, as in… all of you?” she gestured down the row.

“Yeah, this row and part of this one—” he pointed to the row behind them “—endin’ down there with Blink.” The woman sitting beside Blink shifted nervously, her gaze flicking away and back to his eye patch.

“Blink,” the girl next to him repeated drily. “You all have interesting nicknames for each other, don’t you?”

“Some of us. They just call me Jack.” He offered her his hand. “And I forget what they call you?”

She didn’t take his hand. “Nice try, but I don’t give my name to strangers.”

“Don’t that make for a lousy reporter?”

Her mouth dropped indignantly. “You are the most _im_ possible boy—” Jack shushed her as the lights dimmed and the orchestra began playing, and she lowered her voice to a whisper “— _ever_.”

He hid his smirk behind his hand as the curtain came up, and the show began.

Jack didn’t know much about dance, or _The Nutcracker_ for that matter, but from where he sat, it looked incredible, even if the story was slow and the music made him sleepy.

But Race seemed to be happy, in his element, so he was content to sit back and watch the show, occasionally sneaking looks to the girl next to him. Stubbornly, she didn’t look back, entranced in the show, scribbling in her notebook.

When the curtain came down at the end, and Race took his bow next to the Sugar Plum Fairy—really, where did they come up with these names?—the group of boys turned heads as they cheered and whistled, standing as they applauded uproariously.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the girl next to him smile as she watched them, before writing down one last thing in her notebook and closing it.

Jack lost track of her sometime between corralling the boys to the lobby and making sure Crutchie got out okay. He looked around for her in the lobby, but couldn’t find her. Shrugging, he let it go. It just wasn’t meant to be, Jack figured.

After greeting Race as he entered the lobby—again, cheering loud enough to turn heads and draw more than one displeased stare—and after Race kissed Spot long enough to bring about another round of insulted looks, they filtered out onto the sidewalk, pulling their coats tighter around them.

“Hey Jack. Who was that girl you were talkin’ to? The one ya sat by?” Crutchie asked as they made their way out to the vehicles.

“Dunno, kid.” Jack shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell me her name.”

“ _You_ struck out?” Romeo laughed, shoving Jack’s shoulder. “The famous Jack Kelly?”

Jack shoved him back. “Yeah, maybe, and if ya keep goin’ on ‘bout it, you can ride with Racer.”

Romeo shook his head quickly. “No, nope. Not with that maniac.”

“S’what I thought.” Jack raised his voice so the others could hear him. “Hey! Jacobi’s in ten minutes. First round’s on me!”

A cheer rose up from the boys, and Jack dropped his arm around Crutchie's shoulders, as they split off to their separate cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack runs into the pretty reporter the next day and finally gets her name.
> 
> ***
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	24. Christmas Eve in the Hospital, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack and Katherine end up in the hospital on Christmas Eve... Again.
> 
> ***
> 
> Set five years after the events of chapter nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this came from, honestly, fair warning...

“Jack Kelly, I am _not_ having this baby on Christmas Eve.”

He bit his lip to keep from laughing, knowing full well it wouldn’t end well for him if he did. “Well, you’re gonna have to take it up with him, sweetheart, but I don’t think he’ll listen.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “Great. Just like his father already.”

“That would hurt more if you weren’t just as bad at listening,” Jack said as they approached the front desk. He gave the nurse his most charming smile. “Hi, I’m Jack Kelly, this is my wife, Katherine, and we’re having a baby.”

“No, we’re no- _ot_.” She gritted her teeth, holding her stomach as she felt another contraction.

He rubbed hand across her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “Let’s let the doctor be the judge of that, huh?”

“Wheelchair, here!” the nurse called to an orderly, who brought around a chair. “Okay, Mrs. Kelly, let’s try and get you comfortable and find your doctor, okay?”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“It’s been six hours, Jack.” Katherine groaned, pacing the floor. Well, waddled, really, but this wasn’t the time to be pointing that out.

“I know, Kath,” Jack said sympathetically. He didn’t like feeling helpless while she was uncomfortable. “Whaddaya want me to do?”

She sighed, pressing her hands in the small of her back, stretching. “You’ve called my parents, right?”

“Yep. Joe and Kate’ll be here in the morning. Ya mom said they were tryin’ to find another flight in.”

“And the boys?”

“Crutchie and Dave came about an hour ago, Spot and Race and the rest said they’d come in the morning if ya were feelin’ up to it.”

Sighing again, Katherine eased herself back on the bed, and Jack took her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Then I guess, we just… wait.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Dad, do you want to cut the umbilical cord?”

Jack took the scissors from the nurse and did as she instructed, hands only shaking a little. Their son was whisked away before he got a good look at him to be cleaned up.

He moved back up to the head of the bed, squeezing Katherine’s hand, stroking back her hair and kissing her temple. “Ya did it, Katherine. Ya did so good.”

She closed her eyes, dropping her head to his shoulder.

“Seven pounds, two ounces. Twenty-one inches. Time of birth twelve-ten, December twenty-fifth,” the nurse announced, bringing back their son—their _son_ , how ‘bout that?—swaddled in a blanket, setting him gently in Katherine’s arms.

Jack laughed, sliding an arm around her. “Well, you said you didn’t want him to be born on Christmas Eve, didn’t ya Ace?”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Not bad for a Christmas present.” Katherine said softly, rubbing her thumb along Pete’s tiny hand.

They had managed to squeeze in the small bed together, their baby in Katherine’s arms. Dave and Crutchie had been in and gone, already, and they weren’t expecting Joe and Kate for another few hours, so they were taking time to get acquainted with their son.

Jack nodded, cupping the back of his son’s head. “I can think of only one thing that comes even close.”

“What’s that?” Katherine asked, taking her eyes off the baby in her arms briefly to look at her husband.

“Well, about five years ago, I tried climbin’ a tree right outside this hospital. And since I haven’t climbed a tree since I was a kid, I fell. I broke my arm, and this pretty girl in the ER signed my cast, and gave me her number. Best Christmas present I ever got. Until now.”

“Five years…” she said, disbelieving, looking down at their son. “Is that right?”

“Trust me, Ace. I’ll never forget it.”

Katherine turned her face up to him and kissed him softly, careful not to disrupt the sleeping child.

“Merry Christmas, Jack.”

“Merry Christmas, Kath.” Pete chose that moment to make a fussy noise, twisting in Katherine's arms. "Right, sorry. Merry Christmas to you too, Pete."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve to everyone who celebrates! (If you don’t, then I hope you’re having a lovely Sunday!) <3
> 
> Only one chapter left, folks. Are you ready?
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	25. Kelly Family Christmas Newsletter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, Katherine Kelly sends out the family Christmas newsletter.

It was a silly tradition, one she started the two years they spent abroad for work, insisting they keep their friends and family updated on their lives.

_(“Ace, we call your folks every other week, the boys once a month, and they all got us on social media, they know what’s happenin’.”_

_“They know the_ highlights _, Jack. What we can fit in a hundred and forty characters or an Instagram caption, or squeeze in a phone call. This lets them know everything that happened.”)_

Katherine continued it through the years, even after they moved back to the States, the letter growing slightly longer with each child.

And every year, it was common to see the Kelly family newsletter, printed on cheery Christmas-themed paper, up on Crutchie’s fridge, carefully tucked away in Dave’s desk, tacked up on Spot and Race’s bulletin board, and even hanging in Joe’s office.

 

_*~*~*~*~*_

 

_Dear Friends and Family,_

_As the end of the year approaches, the time of reflection is upon us. A time to look back on the good, and the bad, that has happened in the last twelve months._

_For the Kelly’s, the last year has passed too slowly and, yet, in no time at all. So many changes have happened, thankfully all good ones._

_Pete will turn ten in just a few weeks’ time, and he can’t wait to be one of the “big kids”. He started fifth grade in August and joined the after-school hockey team. We started reading_ Harry Potter _in July, and he’s decided he must be a wizard. Pete loves math—a fact Jack and I both blame Charlie for—and the stars—all Jack, that one—and wants to be an astronomer when he grows up._

 _Corey turned eight in September and started third grade. He wishes he were as big as his older brother, and begs Pete to teach him how to hit a puck. We’ve been working on his reading with him, and he’s improved so much in the last year. He sat down and read the first_ Captain Underpants _book all by himself. Corey’s decided he wants to be an artist like Dav Pilkey and his Daddy._

_Having turned five in April, Lucy finally got to start school with her brothers, and she’s loving every minute of it. She’s not into hockey like Pete and Corey, but she loves getting out on the ice, just to skate. Much like her namesake, she loves taking pictures. If we turn our backs for too long, she’ll grab our phones and fill up half the camera roll with pictures she’s taken. Lucy hasn’t decided yet between a photographer and a cowboy when she grows up._

_Not much has changed for Jack and me. He’s still freelancing as a graphic designer, helping out at Medda’s theater when he can, and being Stay-at-Home Dad Extraordinaire. I’m still an investigative journalist at the paper, chasing scoops by day and kids by night. Our eleventh wedding anniversary was in May, and we took the kids to Santa Fe to celebrate._

_(Included is a picture of the five of us at the Santa Fe Plaza)_

_As we turn our eyes to the new year, we hope that the good fortune we’ve witnessed this last year stays with us, and that the memories are strong enough to guide us through trying times._

_From our family to yours, we wish you good fortune, hope, and happiness this holiday season._

_Happy Holidays!_

_All our love,_

_Jack, Katherine, Peter, Corey, and Lucy Kelly_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...
> 
> It's been an adventure and a half, the last twenty-five days, and I thank you so, so much for sticking with me and for all your wonderfully sweet comments. They were my favorite gift:D
> 
> I think I'll settle in for a bit of a long winter's nap, and then go back to focusing on Heart on the Trigger. After that, well... I guess we'll see, won't we??
> 
> From me to you, I wish you good fortune, hope, happiness, and, as always, peace, love, and sanity. 
> 
> All my love<3


End file.
